Khalo
by Marcus the Pyrokinetic
Summary: Based on the Plot line by LavenderLightning, "Replica" takes place in an impending appocalyptic mindset. It is inhabited by Replicas, Alters, and the Scientists who created them. The Scientists often collect all the Replicas and Alters to improve their survival skills, but these "improvments" tend to have side affects, for Khalo it cost him his memories.
1. Chapter 1

**1**

The boy laid curled up on his side, in the grass as far as he knew, his fatigue tied him to the ground but the relief was loosening his chest. Every time he was turned loose he'd have some sort of new injury, as of yet, he didn't know what that was. Drawing in a long breath and feeling finally rested, he opened his eyes and sat up slowly. What a night it had been! What a flight it had been! Why was it, exactly that there were replicas they sent out to survive by means of the earth? Why was he one of them?

He hugged his knees and cried, he needed it, just a few tears from the shock. The last he could remember before they had sent him out to run for his life was a sharp, pulsing pain in his neck and arms from some poison they had put in his body to slowly make him immune to it. It had happened like that several times, they'd find him, catch him, bring him back, poison him, then send him out as if he were escaping but they could always find him again. He always had a feeling that when they had first collected him, they put some sort of chip in his body to track him where ever he went. Experimental, that's what he was.

Drying his tears he reached to his few belongings to continue on his flight to get as far away from them as he could. The arm he reached with was his left, and on that arm there was tattooed in his forearm a long number and his name, Khaloezuram. He couldn't read but was recognized it as his name and would never forget the number written there. They called him Khalo, but he didn't care much for the name. Also on his left arm he kept tied a leather band above his elbow, it represented something to him, he knew that much but several collections ago he had forgotten what it was for due to one of the various experiments, nevertheless he kept it on his arm at all times. Both traits the tattoo and the band were not what he suddenly found strange about his arm but gazing there stunned for a few moments he saw that several veins down his elbow to mid forearm were swollen and dark. He grimaced to himself knowing it was a reaction to some poison put in his body that he hadn't noticed on his flight.

Continuing to take what he had reached for, nevertheless, he did so and placed the two arm guards over his forearms hiding the tattoo on his left arm. Proceeding to stand up he took to his weapons which he had laid close to him the last night so he could sleep in readiness. Setting them over his back in a holster strap accompanying his belt, he continued walking, he had with him all his belonging, the clothes on his back, the guards on his arms, his two weapons a sword and a staff, and the leather band. He sighed, trying to remember how many times he had come out like this, every few weeks at the least, years went by too slowly to him.

The wind was strong as he walked out in the open, he could see where they were miles behind him but he was both too fast and too strong for them to catch him now, in oncoming light of morning. In addition he had just come out, so he had several weeks before they'd come after him again, he was sure right now there were just watching him to see what he would do. The wind blew his gray hair around him, of what he could remember it had been one of the experiments from earlier in his life that had turned it gray and the tips of his bangs were cyan, though no matter how hard he tried to remember he could see why they were so. Likewise were his eyes lacking in color and he often over heard them referring to his eyes as macro blue but he didn't know what that meant.

Khalo often remembered seeing others who never left with their heads shaved and in clean well covering clothes, but why was he different, his gray hair was to his shoulders and they rarely cut it when he was collected, while he was there he was dressed into the clean clothes but when he was put to flight he'd be forced to take up his make-shift clothing again. During the collections he'd be surrounded in a flash by strange machines and vehicles never found out in this world, he'd try to get away but they'd seize him violently and put him into the vehicles with hundreds of others crammed tightly. He'd follow into a large room where the air was filled with a drug to make him passive as they were divided into lines, divided by traits like gender, physical appearance, and previous experiments that he had endured. He'd quickly and torturously be cleaned and dressed plainly then sent to the ones who he defined as very "needle savvy". Once he was put out he'd never know what exactly happened and he'd find himself a few moments to collect his belongings and run from there with all his might, they'd chase him but never catch him, though he had a feeling it was set up to be like that.

Sometimes Khalo thought that if he got too far from them they'd come to collect him sometimes he thought it was scheduled and that he could count out the days, but he never could. He couldn't read but he could count, that much was necessary for his skill in this world. He didn't know why he always found his weapons with his belongings before he'd run, it was like they were returning them after having taken them, like everything was a test. He knew that the further he went the longer it took for them to collect him so he was determined to get further from them each time. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away, and this time he didn't want to go back.

He felt at his waist where his make-shift tunic folded over itself and was held back by his belt and was relieved to feel that the small, hand sewn pocket still held the six disks of copper. They weren't pennies, they weren't even stamped to be coins they were just metal hammered flat by another replica in one of the colonies dotting the landscape. For now that was where he was going, to one of the colonies in order to get some food and earn more of the copper disks.

Suddenly he felt a pang approximately over his left lung and stumbled, it was definitely the poison taking some effect on him. Replicas didn't have medicine only their creators had it and treated them where needed at each collection. His left side felt pressed in and his neck felt closed up restricting his breathing. Instinctively he raised his hand to his neck fighting to breathe when he felt another swollen vein on his neck to left side seemingly over his heart, it was a jugular vein so he knew it might cause many complications. What were they trying to do this time? They certainly wouldn't let him die that much he was sure of from past experiences.

Shaking of the pain he was feeling he continued and broke into a swift run across the hills. Running felt good to him, since he so often found himself doing it, and the faster he went the more secure he felt. As his left arm flew in front of him again seeing the bands tied on it he remember why he had them, not who had given them to him just why, so that he would know how to find that person. He had a very bad memory, he knew that for sure, there were so many dark areas in his life that he simply could not remember the band was a forget-me-not to make sure he could find his way. After traveling like this for about a mile and still not breathing too terribly hard besides the poisoned pain which was prevalent, he stopped abruptly and stared pensively at his surroundings.  
The sun had barely risen so things around him were still vague but he knew it when he saw it, he was surrounded by Alters. He himself was an Alter but his body was small from all the experiments endured, these Alters were much larger than him and instinctively he took his staff from its placement on his back, "What's this then? A gathering," he said spitefully.

The light was so dim he could see the Alters well but he could tell they glared at him for how he had inquired, "What you doing here this early? The collection doesn't let out until the sun's on your head,"

Khalo brandished his staff pointing it so the blade was low and facing up, "you've got no business knowing!" he insisted and tried to continue past them.

Finally the tallest of what he could now make out was five Alters stood in front of him. The tall Alter took hold of his tunic and yanked him closer, "how did you get out!?" being now close to the Alter, Khalo was able to see that the Alter was female.

Khalo violently raised the staff bashing the Alter in the jaw and hurrying out of her grip. The Alter groaned and growled as her effects from the experimentation were revealed as the dawn met the horizon, "oh, you're gonna pay for that!" she said as the long cut across his face from the blade healed itself in a few seconds. The skin flustered and lapped over itself forming a hideous crease across her face added to others.

Khalo shuddered at the sight but held his staff firmer, "I don't want to fight you I just was to get to 9-A colony!" he demanded as one of the replicas came upon him and he bashed his shoulder firmly knocking out his breath. Khalo tensed, this replica was also female. He didn't want to fight but his actions said otherwise.

The Alter laughed a bit as the replica fell, "you hear that!" she addressed the rest of them, "he works with metals! And he's got friends in 9-A. Us!" she laughed as if it all made sense to her and Khalo was left in the dark.

Growling deep in his throat, Khalo became aware that the large sword on his back explained much of that, he had made it himself and it took him quite a long time to, that skill was valuable out here, more so than copper disks. The light was becoming more bright now and he was able to see more clearly but he did not falter in any way.

"Khalo?" someone from behind him said and he whirled around to meet eyes with the other Alter. He also had gray hair and pale blue eyes, he appeared much younger and healthier, but in the whole incredibly similar to Khalo. Readying the staff, Khalo gazed coldly at the Alter who knew his name. The Alter came closer to him very slowly, "Khalo, it's me, don't you remember, Dmitri,"

Khalo narrowed his eyes, "I've never seen you before in my life!" he insisted harshly.  
The Alter claiming to be Dmitri gestured to Khalo's left arm, "but those bands, that's how I recognized you, the bands on your left arm, you were right, they would work to help you remember!" he continued hopefully.

Sighing deeply Khalo was hesitant to let go of his guard, "my memory never works properly for me," he said softly, "so you're the one these bands are supposed to point me to," he pulled on them a little, brandishing them as his own. "Are these your friends?" he asked raising his voice. Dmitri nodded hesitantly. Khalo didn't actually believe Dmitri had been the one who gave him the bands but he allowed himself a small level of trust and lowered his staff before swinging it up abruptly into the holster on his back.

The flame encrusted sunrise lit the world at their left sides as Khalo was looked over my Dmitri, who gazed oddly for several moments longer at the enlarged veins on his arm and neck. He made sure the bands were tied properly as if there was a proper way to do it, and with slightly hesitant permission he took off the left arm guard to both see the extent of the swollen vein and the tattoo on his arm as if to make sure it was him. Khalo noticed similarly that Dmitri also had the tattoo on his arm, now Khalo never forgot the number written in his arm nor any other numbers he read on others but Dmitri's number was indeed familiar but he hid his remembrance of it.

There was another pulsing pang mostly in his head making him suddenly dizzy and kneeling down on the ground but he tried to hide that too. If he knew one thing, it was that the poison in his body as not being taken very well this time like it had in the past. He breathed heavily containing himself with care in his movements the standing up and looking Dmitri deeply into his eyes he demanded, "I'm going to 9-A, and you!" and continued walking to the south.

The tall Alter stood in front of him, "you talk pretty highly for an Alter with no memory," she threatened as everything became seeming familiar now.

Sighing almost accepting of the threat, Khalo drew out his staff again, "at some point all of us lose a part of ourselves," he whispered, "Now tell me who are you?" he demanded seeing how incredibly strong this Alter was even being female.

"Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded.

The tall female Alter smirked, "Hawthorne," she muttered with pride and distain. She had weapon holsters all over her body, on her back, within the flaps of her vest, on her belt, on her thighs, and in her boots. She wore her long gray hair tied up—Khalo noted that like him she also had gray hair—in a flawless pony tail high on her head like a crown swinging around as she walked. On her right eye she wore an eye patch while the left was also scarred and lacked beauty in its sad black color. She had a tight, black, body suit, it was seamless so Khalo knew she must've worked very hard to get it. Over her body suit she wore her vest with many holsters and pockets sewn into it, it wasn't much but it was sturdy. At her waist she wore a tick leather belt, unlike Khalo's which was rope and burlap, to it was strung more holsters and a fine fabric, white cape, stained to the weathered condition. Her legs were girded with two holsters armor from her thighs to her knees, and heavy leather boots, thick and armor-like protecting her shins and feet. Khalo envied those boots, his were thin leather and were not strong enough to be like armor.

Khalo couldn't help but note how well girded she was and how feminine her figure was, despite what scars she had. She was thin and nimble in the waist, and her arms and legs were strong, but her chest was tightened by her body suit making Khalo's thoughts stray to what she must look like when she was relaxed. She was very beautiful to him, strong, levelheaded, and elegant in all her ways. Quickly Khalo dismissed it, "you said 'us' does that mean you're also from 9-A?"

Hawthorne grimaced a little as they walked, in one swift movement she drew a dagger from her boot and slashed it at Khalo, in the same moment Khalo drew his sword to meet it. Hawthorne grinned falsely, brandishing the knife she pressed harder, "does it look like it?" she asked in return.

Khalo knew this statement it meant she wanted him to see for himself, his eyes drifted to the dagger. The blade was folded he could tell by looking at it, it was curved and sharp, "you made it?" he asked, Hawthorne affirmed. Khalo grimaced it must've taken her forever to fold it even if it was only a dagger, what she had attempted was a dagger as strong as a katana. "How many folds?" he asked again proving his knowledge of it since it was among the few things he never forgot.

Hawthorne recoiled and broke away sheathing the blade, "eight hundred," she said softly.

Khalo smirked a little, "so few?" he set his sword back in its holster, he had felt her strength and he now knew she had little to hold up against him especially with the weight of his sword. Khalo reached up and took out his staff again, the small blade on the side was no more than five inches long, "See this," he held up the blade to her, "two thousand folds, and even that is very few! It takes four thousands to make a good katana, and eight thousand to make a incomparable one,"

"Khalo," Dmitri said again. Khalo turned to him, "look around you. The sun has risen so you can see, we're all from 9-A," Dmitri kicked a rock off a boulder then jumped off it followed by the others. As Dmitri recovered from the short fall they began working their way up a long hill, "what happened to you, Khalo?" Dmitri asked receiving no answer. "Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded again now in desperation, "what about those things you said? All the things about leaving this place and finding our originals in the real world, all your ideas about the real world, those things you said you had seen, they all meant nothing? What has changed in you?" he begged as tears suddenly streamed down his face.

Tensing Khalo stared painfully at Dmitri's tears, seeing the tears pained Khalo in his heart, "I don't know!" Khalo whispered in a firm voice to hide his trembling, "I can't remember…"

Dmitri gazed deeply into his eyes, "what about that we were somehow tied as one person like you said about your visions! We are one person!" to prove himself Dmitri then rushed forward to a spring on the ground in the hill, the water was what he was heading for. Touching his hand to the water as it trickled down the hillside he manipulated it raising the stream into the air and around them, "We can both do this, you taught it to me," he brought the water into a ball and stretched it around in the air before he absorbed it into his own hands.

Khalo seemed a bit stunned by the inhumanity of Dmitri's actions but even more so by the stance Dmitri then took up. Dmitri bent his knees lowering himself to the ground, his arms were arched and his form seemed to waver like ripples in water. His arms flailed in circular movement then abruptly they flowed forth with water reacting a lens before him which Khalo could see through. For a moment Khalo thought it was a mirror as the person he saw through the water was not Dmitri but himself then as he looked closer he saw that it was negated.

Khalo knew he had gray hair with cyan blue stands but the person he saw staring back at him was not himself but his complete negation. Black hair, dark red strands and eyes like crimson coals. The vision vanished abruptly and Dmitri collapsed, Khalo stood absolutely stunned, what he had seen scared him, this meant that Dmitri had some sort of connection to someone else who was their exact negation. Before he could react to what he had seen he reacted to Dmitri as his small form rolled down the hill those several paces back where he came.

Stopping his fall Khalo saw that Dmitri was breathing hard, "it takes a lot of energy to do that, but you're stronger than my I know you can do it better than I can," Dmitri breathed, slowly he tried to stand up but quickly fell again to be stopped by Khalo. It took a while, but Dmitri's strength eventually did return and they continued up the steep hill. As they did Khalo began to become aware of the other four travelers with them. Hawthorne was seemingly the head of the group and Dmitri was only a tag-a-long, as was Khalo at this point, but the others all seemed to have a story of their own by their appearance.

It seemed odd to Khalo, besides Dmitri and himself, all Alters in the group were girls. Strange looking girls at that. The one closest behind Hawthorne was a blond girl whose name—as he eventually found out—was Enimsaj, he silently noted what a strange name it was but he noted his own name was a bit strange as it was. Her eyes were like Khalo's lacking in color except a faint blue but she seemed very uneasy and her eyes were dark as if from lack of sleep or a lot of recent crying. She wasn't that much different from Khalo himself, needing a few tears once in a while. Enimsaj wore a light blue head band, likely another forget-me-not, it looked as if it was three pieces of quality woven fabric sewn together into a strap tied across her forehead. Her blond hair was not as well kept as Hawthorne. She was dressed in a make shift dress, with wrapped black sleeves on her arms, legs, and high on her neck, this black under clothing also had a hood which she currently wore over her head hiding all her skin except on her face and hands. Her feet her shod in worn boots and the only weapon visible was around her waist on a rope belt in a small, well decorated sheath. Her dagger had also been forged by Hawthorne but it was meager and did poorly to defend herself, it was probably why she had Hawthorne were so close.

The next one that caught Khalo's eyes was who he later found out to be Rynthkhyaliem. Rynth, as was her nickname, or Runt, wore a light, white dress, showing much skin on her arms, legs, and neck, but that only locked Khalo's eyes on her more fastidiously. She didn't seem to have any weapons but to find out for sure Khalo struck at her with a weapon of his own and she abruptly used something to send him away. Rynth was energetic, and for more reasons than apt, she had some ability to store energy reserves in her body then summon them and fire them at will, this had been what she used to deflect Khalo's blow so effortlessly. Her eyes were sapphire blue and her hair, held back by flowers behind her ears and several decorative barrettes, was black, unlike all the others with light nearly colorless hair, it was strange to Khalo, most replicas had light or gray hair but this one had black hair, it didn't bother him but it struck him as strange.

Finally the last two in the group, Khalo had to overlook the two of them at the same time because of how alike they looked. The twins, Posman and Negara, Khalo laughed a bit by their names, Positive and Negative, they both had pink hair and eyes, their ragged and short hair wasn't tied back in the slightest way unlike to all the other's even Khalo. Dmitri tight his hair back in a ponytail not unlike to Hawthorne's, but it was shorter and barely stayed. Both were clad in the black body suits, but Neg wore a short, frilly punk-goth-looking dress involving netting and expensive fabrics that were incredibly hard to make from what he knew. Pos—and Khalo quickly found he was mistaken by the pink hair—was male, and wore little more than the black body suit other than clad boots—again Khalo envied—a tie, and a sharp, personally crafted scimitar, holstered in a sheath on the back of his belt. It was a flexible attire though it confused Khalo. Neg also carried a weapon but the face she carried with it was what made it potent; evil, cringed, pleasurable, these were her faces as she brandished the blade of a death scythe.

Khalo breathed in deeply, his breath had quickened from climbing this hill, he found himself looking over his own appearance after having looked over everyone else. His boots were worn and falling apart but they had served him this long they could survive a bit longer, if he could get some more copper he could pay for new ones but not here in the middle of nowhere. He wore black, wrapped leggings, warm cotton breaches, a dark brown make-shift tunic secured by a belt and a shoulder belt for his one weapon holster containing his two weapons a large, sharp, weighty, two-edged sword, and a sturdy staff with the small folded blade on the end. For some reason his bangs always fell to one side so he had them ties back with two hair bands but he didn't mind having the rest of his hair on his neck. His two arm guards were the only things he had to protect him, those and his two weapons.

Things must have been changing for the others as well, Khalo felt a lot of significance as they reached the top of the hill. "Khalo, look," Dmitri urged, taking Khalo by the wrist. They ran over the peak of the long trek up and stopped at the top while the other's followed at a slower pace. Before them laid a widely stretched camp, without buildings, and little structures of tents, smoke rose from every one of the few tents and many small forms wandered the dusty paths between tents. This was the ninth colony in this world, there were two sections of this colony simply called A and B. The residents of A were metal workers who were all skilled in making weapons and utensils over various kinds. The residents of B on the other hand, worked with cotton, leather, straw, and anything that could be used for fabric or rope. Both were very prestigious colonies because of their produce for the world lacking in everything.

Dmitri smiled brightly but Khalo could only stare forward over the colony, "We're here," he whispered. Picking up his feet he began walking down into the valley where the colony lied, "9-A," he whispered. The others began to follow him now, he had nowhere in this world, everything he had was on his back, but somehow his heart felt drawn, his purpose was being revealed. He was an Alter, he had a purpose, and this journey, a journey past 9-A was his goal, to leave this world and find his original. 9-A was the first step, 9-A was special to him, 9-A is—"My home!"**1**

The boy laid curled up on his side, in the grass as far as he knew, his fatigue tied him to the ground but the relief was loosening his chest. Every time he was turned loose he'd have some sort of new injury, as of yet, he didn't know what that was. Drawing in a long breath and feeling finally rested, he opened his eyes and sat up slowly. What a night it had been! What a flight it had been! Why was it, exactly that there were replicas they sent out to survive by means of the earth? Why was he one of them?

He hugged his knees and cried, he needed it, just a few tears from the shock. The last he could remember before they had sent him out to run for his life was a sharp, pulsing pain in his neck and arms from some poison they had put in his body to slowly make him immune to it. It had happened like that several times, they'd find him, catch him, bring him back, poison him, then send him out as if he were escaping but they could always find him again. He always had a feeling that when they had first collected him, they put some sort of chip in his body to track him where ever he went. Experimental, that's what he was.

Drying his tears he reached to his few belongings to continue on his flight to get as far away from them as he could. The arm he reached with was his left, and on that arm there was tattooed in his forearm a long number and his name, Khaloezuram. He couldn't read but was recognized it as his name and would never forget the number written there. They called him Khalo, but he didn't care much for the name. Also on his left arm he kept tied a leather band above his elbow, it represented something to him, he knew that much but several collections ago he had forgotten what it was for due to one of the various experiments, nevertheless he kept it on his arm at all times. Both traits the tattoo and the band were not what he suddenly found strange about his arm but gazing there stunned for a few moments he saw that several veins down his elbow to mid forearm were swollen and dark. He grimaced to himself knowing it was a reaction to some poison put in his body that he hadn't noticed on his flight.

Continuing to take what he had reached for, nevertheless, he did so and placed the two arm guards over his forearms hiding the tattoo on his left arm. Proceeding to stand up he took to his weapons which he had laid close to him the last night so he could sleep in readiness. Setting them over his back in a holster strap accompanying his belt, he continued walking, he had with him all his belonging, the clothes on his back, the guards on his arms, his two weapons a sword and a staff, and the leather band. He sighed, trying to remember how many times he had come out like this, every few weeks at the least, years went by too slowly to him.

The wind was strong as he walked out in the open, he could see where they were miles behind him but he was both too fast and too strong for them to catch him now, in oncoming light of morning. In addition he had just come out, so he had several weeks before they'd come after him again, he was sure right now there were just watching him to see what he would do. The wind blew his gray hair around him, of what he could remember it had been one of the experiments from earlier in his life that had turned it gray and the tips of his bangs were cyan, though no matter how hard he tried to remember he could see why they were so. Likewise were his eyes lacking in color and he often over heard them referring to his eyes as macro blue but he didn't know what that meant.

Khalo often remembered seeing others who never left with their heads shaved and in clean well covering clothes, but why was he different, his gray hair was to his shoulders and they rarely cut it when he was collected, while he was there he was dressed into the clean clothes but when he was put to flight he'd be forced to take up his make-shift clothing again. During the collections he'd be surrounded in a flash by strange machines and vehicles never found out in this world, he'd try to get away but they'd seize him violently and put him into the vehicles with hundreds of others crammed tightly. He'd follow into a large room where the air was filled with a drug to make him passive as they were divided into lines, divided by traits like gender, physical appearance, and previous experiments that he had endured. He'd quickly and torturously be cleaned and dressed plainly then sent to the ones who he defined as very "needle savvy". Once he was put out he'd never know what exactly happened and he'd find himself a few moments to collect his belongings and run from there with all his might, they'd chase him but never catch him, though he had a feeling it was set up to be like that.

Sometimes Khalo thought that if he got too far from them they'd come to collect him sometimes he thought it was scheduled and that he could count out the days, but he never could. He couldn't read but he could count, that much was necessary for his skill in this world. He didn't know why he always found his weapons with his belongings before he'd run, it was like they were returning them after having taken them, like everything was a test. He knew that the further he went the longer it took for them to collect him so he was determined to get further from them each time. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away, and this time he didn't want to go back.

He felt at his waist where his make-shift tunic folded over itself and was held back by his belt and was relieved to feel that the small, hand sewn pocket still held the six disks of copper. They weren't pennies, they weren't even stamped to be coins they were just metal hammered flat by another replica in one of the colonies dotting the landscape. For now that was where he was going, to one of the colonies in order to get some food and earn more of the copper disks.

Suddenly he felt a pang approximately over his left lung and stumbled, it was definitely the poison taking some effect on him. Replicas didn't have medicine only their creators had it and treated them where needed at each collection. His left side felt pressed in and his neck felt closed up restricting his breathing. Instinctively he raised his hand to his neck fighting to breathe when he felt another swollen vein on his neck to left side seemingly over his heart, it was a jugular vein so he knew it might cause many complications. What were they trying to do this time? They certainly wouldn't let him die that much he was sure of from past experiences.

Shaking of the pain he was feeling he continued and broke into a swift run across the hills. Running felt good to him, since he so often found himself doing it, and the faster he went the more secure he felt. As his left arm flew in front of him again seeing the bands tied on it he remember why he had them, not who had given them to him just why, so that he would know how to find that person. He had a very bad memory, he knew that for sure, there were so many dark areas in his life that he simply could not remember the band was a forget-me-not to make sure he could find his way. After traveling like this for about a mile and still not breathing too terribly hard besides the poisoned pain which was prevalent, he stopped abruptly and stared pensively at his surroundings.  
The sun had barely risen so things around him were still vague but he knew it when he saw it, he was surrounded by Alters. He himself was an Alter but his body was small from all the experiments endured, these Alters were much larger than him and instinctively he took his staff from its placement on his back, "What's this then? A gathering," he said spitefully.

The light was so dim he could see the Alters well but he could tell they glared at him for how he had inquired, "What you doing here this early? The collection doesn't let out until the sun's on your head,"

Khalo brandished his staff pointing it so the blade was low and facing up, "you've got no business knowing!" he insisted and tried to continue past them.

Finally the tallest of what he could now make out was five Alters stood in front of him. The tall Alter took hold of his tunic and yanked him closer, "how did you get out!?" being now close to the Alter, Khalo was able to see that the Alter was female.

Khalo violently raised the staff bashing the Alter in the jaw and hurrying out of her grip. The Alter groaned and growled as her effects from the experimentation were revealed as the dawn met the horizon, "oh, you're gonna pay for that!" she said as the long cut across his face from the blade healed itself in a few seconds. The skin flustered and lapped over itself forming a hideous crease across her face added to others.

Khalo shuddered at the sight but held his staff firmer, "I don't want to fight you I just was to get to 9-A colony!" he demanded as one of the replicas came upon him and he bashed his shoulder firmly knocking out his breath. Khalo tensed, this replica was also female. He didn't want to fight but his actions said otherwise.

The Alter laughed a bit as the replica fell, "you hear that!" she addressed the rest of them, "he works with metals! And he's got friends in 9-A. Us!" she laughed as if it all made sense to her and Khalo was left in the dark.

Growling deep in his throat, Khalo became aware that the large sword on his back explained much of that, he had made it himself and it took him quite a long time to, that skill was valuable out here, more so than copper disks. The light was becoming more bright now and he was able to see more clearly but he did not falter in any way.

"Khalo?" someone from behind him said and he whirled around to meet eyes with the other Alter. He also had gray hair and pale blue eyes, he appeared much younger and healthier, but in the whole incredibly similar to Khalo. Readying the staff, Khalo gazed coldly at the Alter who knew his name. The Alter came closer to him very slowly, "Khalo, it's me, don't you remember, Dmitri,"

Khalo narrowed his eyes, "I've never seen you before in my life!" he insisted harshly.  
The Alter claiming to be Dmitri gestured to Khalo's left arm, "but those bands, that's how I recognized you, the bands on your left arm, you were right, they would work to help you remember!" he continued hopefully.

Sighing deeply Khalo was hesitant to let go of his guard, "my memory never works properly for me," he said softly, "so you're the one these bands are supposed to point me to," he pulled on them a little, brandishing them as his own. "Are these your friends?" he asked raising his voice. Dmitri nodded hesitantly. Khalo didn't actually believe Dmitri had been the one who gave him the bands but he allowed himself a small level of trust and lowered his staff before swinging it up abruptly into the holster on his back.

The flame encrusted sunrise lit the world at their left sides as Khalo was looked over my Dmitri, who gazed oddly for several moments longer at the enlarged veins on his arm and neck. He made sure the bands were tied properly as if there was a proper way to do it, and with slightly hesitant permission he took off the left arm guard to both see the extent of the swollen vein and the tattoo on his arm as if to make sure it was him. Khalo noticed similarly that Dmitri also had the tattoo on his arm, now Khalo never forgot the number written in his arm nor any other numbers he read on others but Dmitri's number was indeed familiar but he hid his remembrance of it.

There was another pulsing pang mostly in his head making him suddenly dizzy and kneeling down on the ground but he tried to hide that too. If he knew one thing, it was that the poison in his body as not being taken very well this time like it had in the past. He breathed heavily containing himself with care in his movements the standing up and looking Dmitri deeply into his eyes he demanded, "I'm going to 9-A, and you!" and continued walking to the south.

The tall Alter stood in front of him, "you talk pretty highly for an Alter with no memory," she threatened as everything became seeming familiar now.

Sighing almost accepting of the threat, Khalo drew out his staff again, "at some point all of us lose a part of ourselves," he whispered, "Now tell me who are you?" he demanded seeing how incredibly strong this Alter was even being female.

"Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded.

The tall female Alter smirked, "Hawthorne," she muttered with pride and distain. She had weapon holsters all over her body, on her back, within the flaps of her vest, on her belt, on her thighs, and in her boots. She wore her long gray hair tied up—Khalo noted that like him she also had gray hair—in a flawless pony tail high on her head like a crown swinging around as she walked. On her right eye she wore an eye patch while the left was also scarred and lacked beauty in its sad black color. She had a tight, black, body suit, it was seamless so Khalo knew she must've worked very hard to get it. Over her body suit she wore her vest with many holsters and pockets sewn into it, it wasn't much but it was sturdy. At her waist she wore a tick leather belt, unlike Khalo's which was rope and burlap, to it was strung more holsters and a fine fabric, white cape, stained to the weathered condition. Her legs were girded with two holsters armor from her thighs to her knees, and heavy leather boots, thick and armor-like protecting her shins and feet. Khalo envied those boots, his were thin leather and were not strong enough to be like armor.

Khalo couldn't help but note how well girded she was and how feminine her figure was, despite what scars she had. She was thin and nimble in the waist, and her arms and legs were strong, but her chest was tightened by her body suit making Khalo's thoughts stray to what she must look like when she was relaxed. She was very beautiful to him, strong, levelheaded, and elegant in all her ways. Quickly Khalo dismissed it, "you said 'us' does that mean you're also from 9-A?"

Hawthorne grimaced a little as they walked, in one swift movement she drew a dagger from her boot and slashed it at Khalo, in the same moment Khalo drew his sword to meet it. Hawthorne grinned falsely, brandishing the knife she pressed harder, "does it look like it?" she asked in return.

Khalo knew this statement it meant she wanted him to see for himself, his eyes drifted to the dagger. The blade was folded he could tell by looking at it, it was curved and sharp, "you made it?" he asked, Hawthorne affirmed. Khalo grimaced it must've taken her forever to fold it even if it was only a dagger, what she had attempted was a dagger as strong as a katana. "How many folds?" he asked again proving his knowledge of it since it was among the few things he never forgot.

Hawthorne recoiled and broke away sheathing the blade, "eight hundred," she said softly.

Khalo smirked a little, "so few?" he set his sword back in its holster, he had felt her strength and he now knew she had little to hold up against him especially with the weight of his sword. Khalo reached up and took out his staff again, the small blade on the side was no more than five inches long, "See this," he held up the blade to her, "two thousand folds, and even that is very few! It takes four thousands to make a good katana, and eight thousand to make a incomparable one,"

"Khalo," Dmitri said again. Khalo turned to him, "look around you. The sun has risen so you can see, we're all from 9-A," Dmitri kicked a rock off a boulder then jumped off it followed by the others. As Dmitri recovered from the short fall they began working their way up a long hill, "what happened to you, Khalo?" Dmitri asked receiving no answer. "Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded again now in desperation, "what about those things you said? All the things about leaving this place and finding our originals in the real world, all your ideas about the real world, those things you said you had seen, they all meant nothing? What has changed in you?" he begged as tears suddenly streamed down his face.

Tensing Khalo stared painfully at Dmitri's tears, seeing the tears pained Khalo in his heart, "I don't know!" Khalo whispered in a firm voice to hide his trembling, "I can't remember…"

Dmitri gazed deeply into his eyes, "what about that we were somehow tied as one person like you said about your visions! We are one person!" to prove himself Dmitri then rushed forward to a spring on the ground in the hill, the water was what he was heading for. Touching his hand to the water as it trickled down the hillside he manipulated it raising the stream into the air and around them, "We can both do this, you taught it to me," he brought the water into a ball and stretched it around in the air before he absorbed it into his own hands.

Khalo seemed a bit stunned by the inhumanity of Dmitri's actions but even more so by the stance Dmitri then took up. Dmitri bent his knees lowering himself to the ground, his arms were arched and his form seemed to waver like ripples in water. His arms flailed in circular movement then abruptly they flowed forth with water reacting a lens before him which Khalo could see through. For a moment Khalo thought it was a mirror as the person he saw through the water was not Dmitri but himself then as he looked closer he saw that it was negated.

Khalo knew he had gray hair with cyan blue stands but the person he saw staring back at him was not himself but his complete negation. Black hair, dark red strands and eyes like crimson coals. The vision vanished abruptly and Dmitri collapsed, Khalo stood absolutely stunned, what he had seen scared him, this meant that Dmitri had some sort of connection to someone else who was their exact negation. Before he could react to what he had seen he reacted to Dmitri as his small form rolled down the hill those several paces back where he came.

Stopping his fall Khalo saw that Dmitri was breathing hard, "it takes a lot of energy to do that, but you're stronger than my I know you can do it better than I can," Dmitri breathed, slowly he tried to stand up but quickly fell again to be stopped by Khalo. It took a while, but Dmitri's strength eventually did return and they continued up the steep hill. As they did Khalo began to become aware of the other four travelers with them. Hawthorne was seemingly the head of the group and Dmitri was only a tag-a-long, as was Khalo at this point, but the others all seemed to have a story of their own by their appearance.

It seemed odd to Khalo, besides Dmitri and himself, all Alters in the group were girls. Strange looking girls at that. The one closest behind Hawthorne was a blond girl whose name—as he eventually found out—was Enimsaj, he silently noted what a strange name it was but he noted his own name was a bit strange as it was. Her eyes were like Khalo's lacking in color except a faint blue but she seemed very uneasy and her eyes were dark as if from lack of sleep or a lot of recent crying. She wasn't that much different from Khalo himself, needing a few tears once in a while. Enimsaj wore a light blue head band, likely another forget-me-not, it looked as if it was three pieces of quality woven fabric sewn together into a strap tied across her forehead. Her blond hair was not as well kept as Hawthorne. She was dressed in a make shift dress, with wrapped black sleeves on her arms, legs, and high on her neck, this black under clothing also had a hood which she currently wore over her head hiding all her skin except on her face and hands. Her feet her shod in worn boots and the only weapon visible was around her waist on a rope belt in a small, well decorated sheath. Her dagger had also been forged by Hawthorne but it was meager and did poorly to defend herself, it was probably why she had Hawthorne were so close.

The next one that caught Khalo's eyes was who he later found out to be Rynthkhyaliem. Rynth, as was her nickname, or Runt, wore a light, white dress, showing much skin on her arms, legs, and neck, but that only locked Khalo's eyes on her more fastidiously. She didn't seem to have any weapons but to find out for sure Khalo struck at her with a weapon of his own and she abruptly used something to send him away. Rynth was energetic, and for more reasons than apt, she had some ability to store energy reserves in her body then summon them and fire them at will, this had been what she used to deflect Khalo's blow so effortlessly. Her eyes were sapphire blue and her hair, held back by flowers behind her ears and several decorative barrettes, was black, unlike all the others with light nearly colorless hair, it was strange to Khalo, most replicas had light or gray hair but this one had black hair, it didn't bother him but it struck him as strange.

Finally the last two in the group, Khalo had to overlook the two of them at the same time because of how alike they looked. The twins, Posman and Negara, Khalo laughed a bit by their names, Positive and Negative, they both had pink hair and eyes, their ragged and short hair wasn't tied back in the slightest way unlike to all the other's even Khalo. Dmitri tight his hair back in a ponytail not unlike to Hawthorne's, but it was shorter and barely stayed. Both were clad in the black body suits, but Neg wore a short, frilly punk-goth-looking dress involving netting and expensive fabrics that were incredibly hard to make from what he knew. Pos—and Khalo quickly found he was mistaken by the pink hair—was male, and wore little more than the black body suit other than clad boots—again Khalo envied—a tie, and a sharp, personally crafted scimitar, holstered in a sheath on the back of his belt. It was a flexible attire though it confused Khalo. Neg also carried a weapon but the face she carried with it was what made it potent; evil, cringed, pleasurable, these were her faces as she brandished the blade of a death scythe.

Khalo breathed in deeply, his breath had quickened from climbing this hill, he found himself looking over his own appearance after having looked over everyone else. His boots were worn and falling apart but they had served him this long they could survive a bit longer, if he could get some more copper he could pay for new ones but not here in the middle of nowhere. He wore black, wrapped leggings, warm cotton breaches, a dark brown make-shift tunic secured by a belt and a shoulder belt for his one weapon holster containing his two weapons a large, sharp, weighty, two-edged sword, and a sturdy staff with the small folded blade on the end. For some reason his bangs always fell to one side so he had them ties back with two hair bands but he didn't mind having the rest of his hair on his neck. His two arm guards were the only things he had to protect him, those and his two weapons.

Things must have been changing for the others as well, Khalo felt a lot of significance as they reached the top of the hill. "Khalo, look," Dmitri urged, taking Khalo by the wrist. They ran over the peak of the long trek up and stopped at the top while the other's followed at a slower pace. Before them laid a widely stretched camp, without buildings, and little structures of tents, smoke rose from every one of the few tents and many small forms wandered the dusty paths between tents. This was the ninth colony in this world, there were two sections of this colony simply called A and B. The residents of A were metal workers who were all skilled in making weapons and utensils over various kinds. The residents of B on the other hand, worked with cotton, leather, straw, and anything that could be used for fabric or rope. Both were very prestigious colonies because of their produce for the world lacking in everything.

Dmitri smiled brightly but Khalo could only stare forward over the colony, "We're here," he whispered. Picking up his feet he began walking down into the valley where the colony lied, "9-A," he whispered. The others began to follow him now, he had nowhere in this world, everything he had was on his back, but somehow his heart felt drawn, his purpose was being revealed. He was an Alter, he had a purpose, and this journey, a journey past 9-A was his goal, to leave this world and find his original. 9-A was the first step, 9-A was special to him, 9-A is—"My home!"


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Khalo sat on a pallet in a tent which had only a dirt floor, he wore only his tunic now making him feel far more relaxed without his legs so tightly bound and his arms uncovered from the arm guards. He didn't mind letting the others in the colony see his tattoo since he felt most of the replicas knew him. Dmitri had convinced him to tie up his hair like the others but he didn't intend to keep it that way long, and he was becoming more and more aware of the tightness of the ponytail binding his hair back, but in the same way "they" often tied it.

There was a fire in the center of the tent for cooking and two more near the edges of the tent for blacksmithing, all of them had vents and chimneys to keep the tent relatively cool. Khalo's deteriorated memory held many remembrances of spending hours in tents like these and he definitely felt at home in a replica camp such as this. Around the fire sat the other Alters from their group, Pos and Neg on either side of Khalo, Dmitri across from him, and Hawthorne and Rynth on either side of him, Enimsaj was not present. All those who were present enjoyed a small meal with each other as the day drew to an end. The sun set quickly and the only light in the tent was the three fires.

The meal consisted of smoked fish prepared on the fire they were sitting before. The fish had no name to the replicas, just that it was gray, had a lot of meat, and lived in abundance in the river beside the colony. Replicas living in the colony would go out right before sunset to catch one or two and cook it for dinner, any leftovers were divvied out between group members evenly for breakfast, after having been kept fresh in salt over night. The salt was bought with copper or exchanged for fish in the 4-A and B colonies to the east of the creators it was mined with other minerals mostly iron, copper, silver, garnet, and marble stone by the replicas living there. The poor state of this world was truly in a high extent.

Also in this meal were two vegetables, each Alter in their group was given a potato, and a handful of peas or beans. Each Alter cooked these to their own content but it was their custom to never eat until the meat of the meal was prepared. The potatoes were mostly cooked beside the smith fires, the searing flames were hot enough to cook the potatoes within a foot of the piles of coals. Tongs were often used to get the potatoes that close to the fire since none of them were willing to dirty their hands in the leather gloves worn during blacksmithing to protect them from the heat. Khalo found that it was the males' responsibility to handle any and all potatoes that needed to be cooked there so he spent a few moments getting to know Pos who helped alongside him, since Dmitri was no more than Khalo's toady and was far too small to handle the tongs. The beans or peas were either set in an iron casket thus close to the fire or set in a pot of water thus close. The vegetable had been bought or traded for in 5-A and B colony where the farming was done, part A of the colony were the animal farmers, while B were the produce farmers.

The groups were like families and each group lived by customary rules, the leader of the group caught the fish, the next to down and all the males prepared the rest for themselves and the younger ones. No matter how young the young ones were they were instructed to sit next to the center fire patiently the whole while that the meal was being made. From catching the fish to sitting around the fire it took about one hour and once the leader said they were going out to catch the fish, the young ones were to wash themselves in the river then sit down at the fire while the second two down and the males would finish their work for the day. This was the same in every tent. In this group of six Hawthorne was the leader, Khalo and Pos were the males, Neg and Rynth were the next two down leaving Dmitri and Enimsaj as the young ones.

The very fact that Enimsaj was not present enraged Hawthorne because it was breaking out of custom that she was not with them and it also left Dmitri alone on his pallet on the floor with no one to talk to. It seemed amazing to Khalo as he was reminded to the customs of the replicas in the colonies. Each group had a tent, the tents were all designed the same, two kilns, and a cooking fire in the center, three chimneys two out the side of the tent where the kilns were and one up the top in the center above the cooking fire. There was a pallet for each member of the group where they sat, ate, and slept, and there were storage sections in one corner of the tent to store their weapons, clothes—Khalo also found it was customary to strip down to the innermost layer upon entering the tent—and other necessities one the group. The entrance was wide to let in light during the day and to keep the tent cool during the day and the night because of the kilns. There were few shops and often the replicas would walk right into another tent to negotiate terms of their trade or purchase. Copper was the only thing used as money since silver and iron were needed for blacksmithing, rarely in other colonies would one find a silver disk to purchase.

Most of the group wore only a body suit or a tunic, Khalo found that the custom of removing most of one's clothes upon entering was because of the extreme heat inside the tent. Khalo sat on his knees, uneasily, "is it true?" he asked refusing to accept what he had just been told, "Kirow is dead?" he trembled.

Hawthorne eyed him implacably, "Again?" she wondered, "how many times to we have to remind you, he's been dead for twenty-eight collections now!" she reminded Khalo in a cruel uncaring voice,"

It was apparent that Khalo's trembling was becoming worse. Dmitri chimed in, "Hawthorne please, he just forgot again. Aren't you used to it yet? Why do you have to make it harder for him with that tone?" the statement directed at Hawthorne did more to hurt Khalo so that he struggled to fight the tears welling in his eyes.

Hawthorne cringed angrily, "it's getting ridiculous, every time he comes back to us, Khalo can't remember any of us except his own brother!" Khalo tensed at the accusation directed to Dmitri. Hawthorne bore her gaze into Khalo more frustrated than ever and cruelly in this way, "Khalo!" she demanded quickly, "Why do you always forget everything! Kirowlohin is dead! Stop taking it so hard!" she bellowed down to him from the other side of the fire.

Silently tears began to drift down Khalo's cheeks, his heads she clenched over his knees he whimpered a bit trying hard to hide it behind his bangs. "I can't forget him, I don't want to believe he's dead, so during each collection I lose myself and I forget everything wrong that has happened to the people my heart is tied to," he whispered softly through his tears.

"It's alright Khalo," Rynth offered, "Maybe if you accept it, it will be easier to let go and you won't have to be reminded of it again." Khalo stiffened, he had simply asked where Kirow was, he didn't ask for pain. It was explained to him that no one knew how Kirow died, he just stopped breathing in his sleep the one day his body disappeared, it left uncertainty to whether or not he was still alive. The other thing that bothered Khalo was that Hawthorne told him that he had been the one to find Kirow dead.

Abruptly Khalo got up and ran out of the tent, even out in the cold wearing only his tunic he ran as fast as he could to escape from Hawthorne's gaze. It was painful to him. Hawthorne got up quickly to go after him but little Dmitri stopped her, "Don't," he said softly, "He needs this…" Khalo ran hard through 9-A simply to get out and as far as he could until he could face the others again, it was embarrassing to have the tears streaming down his face in front of the others but he couldn't help it.

Finding himself outside the camp near the river Khalo paced for a while, uneasily as he was, he was aware he was becoming violent and he forced himself to sit down on the beach by the river. The sun was gone so everything was dark and the deep blue moon was the only thing to light the waters flowing in front of Khalo. The trickling inlets reached to his feet from where he sat but were slowly drawing closer as the night's tide drew in. This river was the border of the ninth colony and the border of the world he knew if only they could find a way to get across it, then they could find out how to get into the real world. Khalo knew he had tried swimming before, but to carry the necessary means of survival while trying to swim such a distance was impossible and that was the kind of "too far" that the creators banned.

Unable to cause his trembling to stop, Khalo cried silently, not even trying to hold back the tears which dripped into the water now at his waist. Kirow was Khalo's brother as was Dmitri. Though Khalo's memory often failed him, he could still visualized Kirow's light gray-blue hair, and his black eyes, his strong arms always holding onto Khalo even after he lost his memory. He was Khalo's closest friend and to realize that he was gone was worse than hard, he felt as if half of himself was gone. He conjured a visualization of Kirow before himself. The figure was tall and strong, as Kirow was, while Khalo had always been the weaker one.

"Where's Heaven?" Kirow's voice asked him. Khalo continued crying as he heard it. "Why, it's just beyond the river," Kirow answered promptly, "it's a wild place, full of excitement, it in many ways it's just like where we are now, you still need to strive, you still need sustenance, but you don't need them." Kirow sat next to Khalo in the river, "Heaven isn't a place, Heaven is Peace. The only place you can find Heaven is in Peace."

Khalo buried his face in his knees and Kirow slow wrapped his arms around his little brother, "But tell me Khalo…" Kirow asked softly into his ear, "where is Peace?"

Abruptly Khalo looked to Kirow to demand and answer but as he looked, all he saw was the endlessly flowing river. Slowly Khalo stopped crying, he was well soaked and had his hands pushed into the dirt and sand beneath the surface of the water. Another tear fell from his eyes, sparkling into the water and slashing there silently. Suddenly Khalo spotted something in the water where his tear had landed, whatever it was it was a luminous blue and brilliantly shining into his wide eyes.

In the water an image formed, the water in the center of a bright blue orb darkened then with a shine of light Khalo could see clearly the image. Again he said his like-faced mirror image, with all his opposite characteristics, this time the figure was sleeping soundly it what seemed to be the most luxurious pallet Khalo had ever seen, covers strewn about him in such a way Khalo doubted what he was seeing could ever exist. The image quickly, and as it finally vanished Khalo felt his limbs quaking.

He suddenly felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked up quickly to see Enimsaj staring down at him, but he couldn't react and before he could breathe another breath he laid back exhausted into the water splashing violently, and drowning himself as he found himself without strength. His last sight was Enimsaj crying as she hurriedly dragged him out of the river.

It took a few minutes for Enimsaj to drag him back to the tent to the others who were completing their meal and laying on their pallets around the fire. "Hawthorne, help me!" Enimsaj cried out.

Swiftly, Hawthorne got up and came to her at the entrance of the tent, "what the—" she gasped seeing Khalo's state, conscious, but barely.

"He was in the river!" Enimsaj said briefly, urgent in tone.

Dmitri got up and came over to Khalo, "No," he insisted, "he tapped into his power, Hydrokinesis. It's very straining, I know! He's just not used to it yet!" he urged Hawthorne to take Khalo to his own pallet and rest, assuring her that he'd be fine after resting. And so it was for Khalo, the long night, with his rested body laying in stillness, faded into day. Yes, it was that the night was too short once they were all asleep but as it sped past them, Khalo awoke to the sound of the breathy bellows increasing the temperature of one of the kilns.

Slowly Khalo opened his eyes after sleep to see it was Hawthorne working the bellows. She wore only a body suit and a leather apron, as well as her hair tied up tightly, but she didn't seem to notice as Khalo awoke. The others were still asleep, but the increasing heat and the approaching morning would wake them soon enough. Khalo sat up and rubbed his face, his hair was down and ragged and he quickly realized he wore nothing under the thin covers of his pallet.

Hawthorne saw him sit up, "what were you trying to drown yourself?" she remarked pessimistically, "that's the most violent reaction to finding out Kirow was dead yet, we've had to tell you so many times it ain't even funny,"

Khalo saw this tunic—a strip of dark brown fabric—hanging to dry near to all the group's belongings. He shot her a look quickly, and Hawthorne looked away focusing on the fire. Slowly Khalo drew himself out of his pallet on the floor to where his tunic hung and assured her she could look again when it was on his back.

Hawthorne put the bellows aside, and got as close as she could to the fire to see the color of the coals, "I can't believe you were lecturing me yesterday about how many folds my dagger had," She took out the tongs and an iron jar and began dropping steel pellets into it, "I'm the one who taught you and Kirow how to fold blades." She took the jar in the tongs and held it over the fire finally shooting a glance to Khalo.

Khalo tensed some at the mention of Kirow, "I guess it is that I come back to the group without knowledge that he ever died," he began wrapping the leather bands around his left arm and was relieved to see that the swelling in the enlarged vein had gone down. He fastened his belt around his waist and took up a pair of leather gloves and stepped closer to Hawthorne, "So, is there anything you need help with today?" he asked eagerly.

Hawthorne rolled her eyes, "I know you don't remember, but right before the collection you got a commission for a long sword, you should get right on it!" she insisted handing him a slip of paper written across with numbers, "here's the order,"

Now Khalo couldn't reading anything but his own name even if he wanted to but he understood numbers and patterns in them. The paper had three lines of numbers, the first line read "239675278428" this was the replica's number, the second line read "4-1-3-2000" this was the sword requested the four was the type, the one was quantity, the three was the metal type and combination, and the two thousand meant the number of folds. As Khalo read it he tensed, "who in their right mind would request a Katana like this!" he burst.

Laughing a bit, Hawthorne continued melting the metal she was working with, "you really don't remember do you, the commission was from another Alter, one that was trained for that sort of thing. It was written all over his body that he'd been manipulated for that sort of play,"

Khalo let out a heavy breath as he took up a leather apron for himself. He tied back his bangs then took the bellows Hawthorne had been using. Abruptly Khalo felt a twinge in the air below his chest and instinctively brought a hand that to stop the fist Hawthorne was sending into his stomach. He laughed with her, "I remember now, you and I," he shook his head, "tsk, we don't get along well,"

Hawthorne grinned, "Slowpoke!" she threatened.

Khalo raised the bellows as he took it with him to the second kiln, "eye patch!" he said in return.

"Memory loss!" Hawthorne barked.

"Scarface!" Khalo countered.

"Illiterate!" Hawthorne continued now focused in her work as she continued the name calling.

Khalo growled, "You are too!" he shouted as he began puffing the bellows blowing the air into the fire to make it hotter.

"Please!" Rynth demanded, "Can you two please stop," she was waking up slowly rubbing her eyes. Throwing off the covers from the immense heat, Khalo saw that Rynth wore exactly what she had worn during the day and even that wasn't much. The sun was breaking over the top in the edge of the camp slowly as the morning was drawing nearer. The life in 9-A started early and ended late with no exceptions. Rynth woke Enimsaj and the two of them quickly dressed and took off from the tent, though they lived in 9-A they worked in 9-B as seamstresses and they were gone until Hawthorne went to catch dinner.

As Pos and Neg awoke it became clear that they were more devoted to serving each other than to work near the hot kilns. Pos dressed simply in a tie and boots, taking up his weapon, then served his sister in assisting her to dress into the short frilled dress the two of them took off leaving Khalo unaware of what they were doing, he doubted that he ever knew what they did when they went off.

The day wore on as Khalo worked, his mind was fresh and new, he had a feeling he often felt like this after each time he lost his memory and had it handed back to him by his group. At dawn he stopped to eat the remains of the last night's fish by the river. He rinsed off the salt in the water briefly so some of the salty flavor he enjoyed would stay and ate it quickly, it was tough, not as good as it had been the last night and the water had did little to improve its flavor. The river water was not clean, in fact it tasted horrible but it was the only thing 9-A had to drink. The colony with all the wells of fresh spring water was the furthest from the river, the mines, and the farms 1-A and B but that was the closest to the creators and few replicas wanted to live near them so most of the replicas were Alters hired to manage it.

Khalo dealt with it alright, if the water sickened him, he'd be collected and any virus would be removed, but he's lose his memory again and be dumped out in the world with his feet as the only means to find his group again. Returning through the camp Khalo overheard some of the replicas talking about the plans for the next collection, something about having all the Alters sent to the other side of the river to carry out the creator's work. Khalo knew some Alters did that, but to think all Alters sent out on missions… what of his group? What if they were separated? What would happen to Dmitri? Khalo quickly dismissed it and hurried back to his tent, removing his leggings upon entering after having noted how much terribly hotter it was in the tent than outside. He returned himself to his apron and continued his work, sticking the fish in his mouth to suck on.

About midday when the temperatures in the tents matched those of the sun on Khalo's head, many of the replicas, including Hawthorne left their tents, and went to the river to cool off. A bucket of salt was place on the beach for more reasons than one. The replicas would swim around in the river, cooling themselves off for a few hours and pulling out anything from small shellfish to seaweed, then return to the beach, rub it in salt then eat it. A small fire was made where the replicas threw in their shellfish to burn and pulled them out this their leather gloves, rubbed the dead creature in salt then ate them in the shell. This was lunch and the break for it. It was enjoyable to Khalo as he remembered times he had spent with Kirow in the water diving for a small meal. Khalo had a feeling he often remembered this as he stared at the replicas doing it.

As the sun began to move its way west, Khalo became aware of the sweat beading his brows, raising and lowering the hammer was becoming harder and harder with each swing and every passing minute. The others turned up steadily, first Pos and Neg, then Dmitri, and finally Rynth and Enimsaj. Khalo pitied the two girls to finally return from 9-B with their bodies wearing everything article they had sewn that day. It must've been dreadfully hot to wear them on the way back because the sun would've been in their faces. 9-A was on the western side, and 9-B was on the eastern side of the colony.

Hawthorne suddenly cried out, "Alright I'm going to get the fish!" and quickly Dmitri and Enimsaj followed her to the river to wash. Khalo sighed heavily, as the tent quieted, but without Hawthorne his thoughts strayed to Kirow.

A pain grew in his heart trying to remember the last he had seen of his brother. It came to him quickly. They was walking in after a luncheon, and instead of continuing his work Kirow laid down. Khalo allowed him and continued his work, but it was hours later when Hawthorne called for the young ones to go fishing, that Khalo tried to wake him. Khalo vividly remembered now forcing Kirow from laying on his side to his back after having told him to wake up several times. Khalo remembered kneeling down and putting his ear to his brother's lips and feeling that no breaths came to them. After that Khalo couldn't see anything of it but he could feel what actions he had done even as streaming tears blocked his vision. Khalo had called for Hawthorne and was shaking Kirow violently as she returned. Hawthorne felt for his heartbeat, tried her best to make him start breathing again but he wouldn't and Khalo still felt the imaginary iron spike pierce him through the heart as Hawthorne pronounced Kirowlohin dead.

Khalo stepped away from the kiln and took his gloves off, and wiped his face of the sweat and his tears. Slowly he followed out to the river to wash himself off then returned with Dmitri and Enimsaj to sit them down. Minutes later Hawthorne arrived with two fish like she had the last night, she put them in the smoker and put the smoker over the fire, kindled in the center of the room up placing fresh wood and a coal from the kiln. On top of the kiln Khalo put a cast iron pot filled with strained river water, beans, chopped potatoes, and salt as the only seasoning for a broth to drink with their dinner. The boiled water was better for them and with the nutrients and flavors from the potatoes and beans it tasted better too.

9-A purchased bushels of potatoes, beans, and peas from 5-B enough that all each tent needed to do to get more was walk a few tents over and trade one or two coppers for enough vegetables to feed their group that night with one potato each, and a handful of beans. Khalo thought this was quite a bland diet that one could get sick of but then, he recalled that he often thought this and dismissed it as an issue.

The meal time was leisurely, the members of the group talked with each other about the day, laughed with each other some, and set their empty iron dishes next to their pallets as they laid down to sleep. Hawthorne lowered the center fire and covered the kilns so the heat would stay inside, then laid down after she was sure everyone was asleep, as was custom.

Khalo wasn't asleep, he was deep in thought, something had occurred to him that day, though he was discovering things, he realized the others already knew them and knew that he often lost his memory and was relearning everything. He must've looked like he was stuck in a big circle he was trapped in no matter what because he simply didn't know how to get out. And yet, he was happy with it, things never got boring, or bland, he loved what he did as a sword smith, and working hard felt good, even if he had some sorrows he still had peace in it.

The endless circle was what he was unused to but used to at the same time, he was comforted to think that unlike the others he'd never become worn out by doing the same thing every day, and that when he forgot about doing that and rediscovered it, it would all become interesting again. "Where's Peace?" Kirow asked. The endless circle was where he found Peace.

"Where's Heaven?"

"I'm not sure yet,"


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Kirowlohin was a sensible type, he was creative, and had a sense of humor that of a fool. He was capable of showing self-restraint but rarely exercised this. At this moment he was serious and calm as he often found himself when being recruited. He had not been awake for a day after being put into commission before he had been put into the Alter section of this scientific department of this hidden continent. Kirow, as he had been nicknamed, sat alone in his quarters like any other Alter—even being he was different from them in privilege—preparing himself for the creation that had been announced today.

Because he had been instructed to do so, Kirow dressed into the white lab-coat he had been provided with and promptly weaved his long hair—to his knees—into a braid. This he had been instructed to do so that when handling the creation he could prevent it from being contaminated by anything. Even though Kirow was technically a creation, a replica like any of the others but an Alter, in so being he was given responsibilities he considered privilege to witness. He was only a few hours old, so he wondered why he had been so promptly thrown into this world of duty.

Kirow knew one thing from the beginning of his life, he relied on electricity for his very life. Upon this one fact he based his knowledge of the biomechanics under his skin and that he was in fact an android with the purpose of an Alter. With the technology he knew of he was aware of the history of biomechanics and that his creation was something to be marveled in the outside world, thus, this be reason to keep his existence a secret. This he firmly agreed with. He was already experimental, the last thing he needed was someone who didn't understand his makeup experimenting further on his conception to better understand him.

At the completion of the weaved rope, Kirow noted the negation that had taken place from his original. He knew this person had red hair, he knew this because the negation of red hair was cyan. Kirow had bright, cyan blue hair reaching as long as four feet down his back. He would have much preferred to have just tied it behind his neck but he had been instructed to braid it instead. He knew how to braid and weave likewise only through the programming already in his mind from the moment he had been _switched on. _

The door to his room opened, sliding aside in a second of its own accord and leading in another who appeared of his same age. Though this was not true, because Kirow was no more than a few hours old, yet he knew more of the world outside than the one who entered did. Racquel, she was what Kirow knew on the outside world would be described as cute. Light brown hair, dark brown eyes, femininity, stubbornness, all he had to do was look at her and the programs he had been created with identified these things to him.

"Good morning, Kirowlohin," Racquel offered, thrusting out her hand to shake. Kirow analyzed the gesture and responded accordingly shaking her hand with a firm but reasonable grip. Racquel smiled warmly and Kirow mimicked her, "It's good to meet you for the first time, Kirow, I'm very excited about the creation today, are you?" she wondered.

What a strange thing it was to Kirow, to wonder, he was capable in his programming to do it, but he was unused to the stretching of thought in order to conjure an idea that he could not yet prove was true. To wonder, he thought of it as a Human ability he had yet to master. Kirow opened his mouth to respond to her question but found that even though the phrase he wished to say was fixed in his mind, his vocal processors were not in practice and what came out of his mouth was merely sound, not words.

Racquel sighed a bit, "I can fix that," she stated coming closer to him quickly, "lay down," she instructed. Kirow knew he had been instructed to do a lot of things lately, but he was a bit cautious about the request at hand. Nevertheless he could do nothing but obey as was his programming and laid down on his flat bed which had little articles of comfort to give him the feeling of softness and warmth as an experience to have in his mind. Racquel used a hatch previously installed into Kirow's neck to open the skin over his throat, the skin around the hatch was artificial and it did not bleed when it was broken in order to open to her access the chamber where Kirow's vocal processors were located.

Kirow's pain sensors, and fuel generation—which appeared to be blood—had not yet been activated so that he could better perceive what she was doing, but Kirow knew he could definitely feel it when his vocal processors were functioning properly and Racquel withdrew. She closed up his throat taking a moment to gaze at the two blackened stripes on his neck where the hatch was located. The two stripes appeared from the left side of his neck to his right shoulder. She knew she had no right to gaze at it labeling in her mind it being different from Humans, for Kirow was not Human.

Racquel stepped back and looked to Kirow as he sat up, "Alright, Kirow, are you excited about the creation today?" she asked again.

Kirow made a sound in his throat which sounded to Racquel as if he was clearing his throat, "Very much so," he said, "as I am aware, this creation is going to be in our charge until they send it out," he stated. He enjoyed his voice, it was smooth and easy to project, his only difficultly was that he could not hear things properly, everything was blurred in his head, he could only understand her because of the voice translators in his mind to identify and extract the meaning of everything in the voice. The meaning he understood, but he could not hear Racquel's voice. He couldn't hear anything.

Amazed by it, Racquel took his hand giving Kirow a moment to feel what a living hand felt like, her hand generated its own heat, there were minute ridges on her fingertips which his computers used to identify her in a different way than just appearance. Racquel spoke firmly, "I'm going to take a few moments to activate the rest of your senses, you'll be able to feel more accurately, and see more clearly, and even hear me."

Kirow looked down at her hand, "I can already… feel. Your hand, there's a pulse inside it, I can't explain it but something tells me it means life," he said softly, inwardly discovering how to control the volume of his speech. Racquel acknowledged then did as she said she would, making sure he could see, and hear, even making sure he could feel physical pain, but not yet starting up his self-fueling mechanism working in the same way as a heart. She was not equipped to get his heart working, therefore he would still be relying on electricity to remain in a life-like conscious state.

Of Kirow's sensible demeanor he wonder, what was it that Racquel had referred to their meeting as morning, he knew it was not even near the beginning of the day in fact it was well in the afternoon. Possibly it was because Kirow was very young, his life had only begun, and it was like a new morning of a slight friendship he could detect between the scientist and the creation. He smiled, a gesture he had learned from her and savored what it felt like to show pleasure for something.

Racquel led him out of the small room he had awoken in out into the facility, "Kirow, did you know that today you and I are going to create a human replica?" she asked. Kirow nodded not finding the need to answer that question else wise. Racquel glanced to him at her side, "are there any specifications you want when we create it?" she wondered.

Kirow stopped, gazing forward at those around him for they stared at him oddly. Feeling the need, he realized they knew he was an android and were unfamiliar with everything happening in the moment as the two of them entered. Kirow opened his mouth and stated plainly, "I am Kirowlohin the android instructed to assist Dr. Racquel in the creation of a new replica," he said aloud for all present to hear and allow them to know that his programs and senses were fully functioning at that he was ready. Upon saying this the gazes were relinquished from him back to the purpose that should've been.

Racquel applauded him with several soft claps then continued to lead him into the control room where they would do what they intended. Rachel was surely excited, Kirow realized when she had asked him she had really meant it, her excitement was struggling to keep her hands from shaking with the thrill she was in. Sitting down in one of the control chairs she instructed Kirow to have a seat in the one next to her.

Immediately when their room was sealed, Rachel began the process, "it's interesting to me, scientists can fabricate a human like a complex jigsaw puzzle, all they need are the proper element amounts and the negated DNA of an original for the personality of the replica." She awed as she began using the mechanized instruments to sterilize their workspace.

Kirow looked into the files on the screen before him, "The original you are using for the DNA is the twin brother of my original, did you know this?" he asked in a level tone.

Racquel nodded, "he'll be your little brother," she mused, "I did that on purpose, for this replica to have some actual family will make it more likely for him to survive when we turn him loose. I made sure, they'll let you go with him if you want," she offered. Kirow passed with a gentle smile. Racquel was a Human, she didn't have a replica somewhere which was sad, when she died she'd be gone but with a replica there'd be a hope of bringing her back, that was the purpose of creating replicas, to give people a second chance to live.

Using the controls Racquel selected from their materials the element proportions of a human body contained in a cylindrical tube about as big as one of them. The proportions were so that this replica would be strong, and a bit bigger than the average man, this was true for the original they had chosen, he was tall and strong. Starting the process, Racquel hit a switch which triggered a mechanized arm to bring a serum to the cylinder. This serum was injected through a port into the tube, it contained microscopic biomechanical organisms into the element proportional fluid to put the puzzle together and form the body of this replica.

It was a sight to behold as Racquel and Kirow watched as a living sack formed in the fluid, it grew and morphed until the distinct shape of a head appeared, then arms and legs attached to a torso which was being fed in the sack as an unborn child is in the womb. Hands, feet, fingers, toes, eyelids, lips, teeth, ears, the tiniest details, these grew on the outside defining the shape of a human. Kirow looked down from the being forming upside down in the cylinder, on a monitor before him, Kirow viewed the internal growth rate of the replica, the heart was starting to beat, it was receiving plenty of nutrients to continue growth at this rate, but something didn't seem right.

Racquel saw it before him and stood up hastily, "there's a second one in there!" she shouted, "look, Kirow! There's two of them!" Kirow regretted to do so but it was true, there were two replicas forming inside, one smaller than the other, and this large strong replica they were trying to create had become two small replicas, weak and gaunt.

Kirow looked to her calmly, "it doesn't matter at this point," he stated, she looked to him devastated, "just finish the process and we'll see if they can survive when it's done." He pulled up the screen so it transparently covered the observation window, "if you see this the way I do, both of their skeletons are fully formed and all their organs are functioning as they should be, we didn't just make one replica we made two, healthy, powerful creatures who may have more will to survive than a real human! Let's find out if they'll make it!" he insisted.

Racquel grinned, "I like your optimism!" she stated firmly and focused on completing the task. By now all of the scientists present must've been able to see that there were two replicas forming in the cylinder and that something had gone wrong but Racquel and Kirow continued stubbornly. As the process while the two replicas were inside the tube was completed Racquel and Kirow turned the replicas upright. Another automated arm inserted a snake-like tube down into the cylinder, they could only do one at a time but this tube was sent down into the mouths of the replicas for feeding.

The cylinder was rotated onto its side so that both replicas were facing upward and the fluid was drained. Kirow increased the temperature inside while Racquel closed the outer shell of light so that the lights on the inside could do their work. Kirow gazed in through the camera monitored from his screen, drawing his eyebrows together he asked, "What is this process for, I don't know,"

Racquel looked in through her own monitor, "the light and heat on the inside are designed to make them age. All replicas are created about two or three years younger than their original then are immediately aged to the exact replica age of their original. This also gives the replicas some things that would otherwise take several years to produce naturally, things like skin tolerant to the heat of the sun, fingernails, and hair. You were no different, the same thing was done to you."

Kirow tensed a little, he knew he should not have found it strange, he was also a replica and even if he had been created differently from this replica they were making guessed where must've been several things he had been through that were similar to this. The outer shell opened again and they could see inside the cylinder again. Kirow leaned forward in his seat to get a better look; the two replicas were breathing now, soundly, and appeared to be asleep, their hair had grown and Kirow was shocked to see that even as young as they were their hair was white. Even with the feeding tubes present they still seemed perfectly calm even though Kirow knew it was all they could do to sleep.

Standing up promptly, Kirow hurried over to the seal in order to get in there with them, Racquel was startled by how fast he got up but simply advised him to make sure he decontaminated first before he entered and she would follow shortly. Before she finished Kirow said hastily, "get someone to bring another table in we'll need it!" Racquel nodded and promptly did so.

When they were finally both inside the room Racquel had Kirow's assistance in opening the cylinder. Both replicas were now dry but the moment Kirow looked in there from this angle he saw that they clung to each other, the smaller one inside the larger one's arms. It took some effort but together, Kirow and Racquel carried both replicas, careful not to tear them apart in worry that they would possibly be conjoined but it didn't appear to be so. Confirming this, they separated the two of them placing them on the tables. Racquel disconnected them from the natural means of sustaining their growth confident the feeding tube would do more to help now that they were out of the tube.

Kirow stopped a moment and looked to the larger of the two replicas. He spied that in the replica's white hair were several discolored strands of cyan blue. Even though Kirow had cyan blue hair it struck him as odd that this replica also had it but the smaller one didn't. He dismissed it and looked to Racquel, "what do we do now? I don't know…" he hadn't been programmed with exactly how to do this, so the creation of a replica was a learning experience for him and he wasn't at all slow to admit he didn't know something.

Racquel was already at it, "we check their healthy condition to make sure they will both survive, do you know where the tools are?" she asked in return. Kirow nodded, the knowledge of the location was simply a preprogrammed function in his computer, included in the layout of this entire facility. "K-Kirow," she stammered hurrying over to the larger of the two replicas, "get the respirator. Be quick, I think this one is having trouble breathing."

Kirow was quick for her but he hesitated as he took a respirator from the supplies and gazed at the machine oddly. It was a long shaft, metallic but coated in a smooth substance Kirow could not identify. Using his own computer to find out, he activated the devise and it began to move in of itself, first growing longer then splitting into two shafts, and finally breaking off into countless directions. He was able to identify the appearance of it as similar to a trachea, splitting into the bronchi. Kirow could not help but gaze at the devise for a few moments as it moved like lungs drawing in air through the top and sending it out the bottom through the many points.

"Kirow, hurry!" Racquel insisted. Kirow gather the necessary tools, collapsing the respirator back into a singular shaft. Racquel turned the replica's head upward, "Kirow, I'll open his throat and I want you to send in the respirator, do you know how to do that?" she asked in instruction. Kirow affirmed silently. Racquel used a tool that reminded Kirow of a scythe sending it into the replicas mouth and pulling it open. Hurriedly but carefully, Kirow looked into the replica's throat taking a moment to identify the two flaps of tissue which he knew to be vocal chords and proceeded to activate the respirator as he pushed it into his mouth. The devise would move on its own and stay in a singular shaft until in found a place to separate into many.

The replica suddenly reeled, as if it were conscious to protest, and its mouth filled with fluid forcing them to take out both tools hastily. The replica sent its left arm reeling around as it coughed sending what was being fed to him through the other tube out of his mouth. Racquel stepped back nearly scared, "was that a gag reflex this early?" she wondered cleaning up the fluid which had been spilled and noting his breathing was now much more hoarse.

They tried again and succeeded, the devise cleared Kirow's reach and went down into the replica's chest where it latched onto the inside of his lungs and forced him to breathe. Before it activated to perform the actual breathing, the devise restricted all breathing for a few moments sending the replica's unconscious body into a panic of flailing. It didn't last long and his breathing was sound again so they proceeded to the other, smaller replica. The boy was very healthy as they found it, completely unconscious unlike its twin, but it was a good thing that the smaller would not flail as the other did.

Kirow found himself staring at this one too, but in a different way, he couldn't see what was right in front of him. "Kirow?" Racquel wondered. It took him a moment to process the sound his ears heard and tell him that Racquel was trying to get his attention. He couldn't hear the following calls as he dizzied, he couldn't even explain to her what he knew was happening as he fell to the floor.

Because his self-fueling mechanism had not yet been activated he could only sustain less than an hour without an electric port to repower him. It was disappointing to him, he would've much rather loved to stay and take care of the new replica. There was no use laying on the floor in half-consciousness, and as he was given the option he chose to shut himself down until he was reactivated when he had more power. He didn't know for sure, but he fancied that when he'd wake up his heart would be beating for the first time and he wouldn't have to rely on electricity.

—

When Kirow woke up the first thing he analyzed was how long he had been without power to find it had been no more than a few hours. The second thing he analyzed was if his senses had been reactivated after they shut down to preserve power even if that failed as it had. Opening his eyes he proved that his senses were active, even those to sense pain as he felt a horridly painful thrumming in his chest. He tensed realizing what it was before he smiled seeing a monitor before him, a graph depicting something that made him happy, the rate in which his heart was beating. It felt good to be self-sustainable now and he felt he had the ability to do whatever he wanted.

After realizing it was his own heart beating he convinced his pain sensors that it was not something to get in a frenzy about and they ceased to send him the sensation of pain. Promptly he got up and left the room he was in—finding it to be the room he had awoken first in—and hurried back to Racquel if she was still there, but even that he doubted. Looking around him he found the room they had created the replicas in but to his despair it was being used, and Racquel was not there anymore.

To someone passing by him he inquired, "Do you know where Dr. Racquel is?" and received a direction after stating he was the android assistant accompanying her. Kirow opened the door to the room he was told she was in and entered without preamble to see her sitting next to a white sheeted bed where the replica slept.

Kirow knelt down next to her as she saw him come in, "is he conscious yet?" he asked.

Racquel nodded taking the replica's hand, "yes, but he hasn't woken up, there's no telling when that will be." Slowly, Kirow nodded. The replica slept with his eyes pinned shut, he was conscious as she told him so but it seemed unlike Kirow, his "pain sensors" were not something he could switch on and off. Though Kirow could be defined as living, this replica really was alive and quite possibly dying. "He's stable for now," Racquel said softly, with a tender grin she looked to Kirow, "do you want to help me name him?" she asked.

Looking at her oddly for a few moment, Kirow sighed, it was a gesture he could mimic, "what about the other one?" he before affirming.

"He's fine, we'll get to him later," Racquel said warmly, "Right now that little one is with the other replicas who haven't been turned loose. He woke up soon after your heart was activated and we put him in with the others where he'll learn his senses on his own. I know he can already see but whether or not he can hear, or feel, or speak is another thing, but sight is good for a first sense."

Kirow nodded thinking deeply, "that's something strange to me," he said in a grim deep voice, "the replicas are created with fully developed bodies but they're slow to gain their senses. Even though I was created using biomechanics I was no different. If you don't mind me asking, was it the same for you when you were…" he hesitated unaware of what word to use, "created?"

Of course Racquel was perfectly fine answering that question, "I wasn't created, you know I'm a human and I wasn't created like this, for humans the cylindrical tube is called the womb, all the things we just did naturally take around nine months to complete, and when humans come out like when we took out the replicas it's called being born. I think it's strange that you weren't programmed with this." She stated, taking out a needle pen from a case she had  
taken into the room with her.

Kirow took some papers of a shelf high in the room, this listed a long number and he gave it to Racquel for her to write out. "I know how it's done without science; I just didn't know the words to use," he admitted this time a little uncomfortable for not knowing. He watched a Racquel took the replica's arm and began writing the long number permanently into his arm. Kirow looked at the papers where the long number was printed and saw that the information for the replica's original was also in it, "Khaloezuram," he whispered seeing the original's full name.

Racquel stopped, "what?" she wondered.

With an odd smile, Kirow shrugged, "I put the original's full name into a shuffle of letters, and Khaloezuram is what came out. Khalo," he repeated, "It's five letters, just like mine, it sounds like a good name, do you think so," he put forward.

Racquel continued writing the number, "okay, Kirow, write it out, you can do it yourself. I like the name, it's a really good one, and I hope he likes it!" quickly but carefully she finished writing.

As she was completing it, Kirow took off one of the arm guards he wore and was a bit shocked to see that he also had a tattoo with a long number and his name, looking to both the number and the name he noticed something, it was Racquel's handwriting. Immediately piecing together the implication he burst, "were you the one who named me?"

She had just finished writing when she looked back to him, "yes, I did, I'm also the second creator who made you," she paused a moment, "you're not disappointed are you?"

Kirow denied his disappointment it felt good to know, "like I'm the second creator who made him?" he gestured to the replica as Racquel gave him the needle pen. The replica grimaced as the needle pen pressed into his skin while Kirow wrote out the word "Khaloezuram" into his arm below the number.

Khalo, the boy shook a little unable to flail any longer as the stinging pain was forced under his skin. Kirow finished writing to see Khalo's eyes open for the first time, the boy had blue-gray eyes calm and curious. Racquel awed at it but Kirow had to remain silent seeing Khalo like that, he didn't seem to be in pain anymore in fact he seemed significantly healthier.

The boy didn't make the slightest response when Racquel took his other hand, said his name several times, even waved a hand before his eyes, "his senses aren't active yet, he can't even see." Kirow stood up briefly then sat down on the bed opposite Racquel, as if out of an instinct he raised his cyan hair out from under him and draped it over the opposite side of the bed.

Kirow didn't have instinct, simply programming but he felt the urge to not sit on his own hair. Kirow was trying to fathom that this boy, Khalo was his brother, it was difficult to imagine given their circumstances, but he liked the idea of having a brother and quickly wrote it into his own computer that when he would identify Khalo he'd identify his brother. Kirow suddenly felt his pain sensors scream at him and he winced, reeling around to see that Khalo had grabbed hold of his hair and was running his fingers through it.

Moving a bit closer to prevent the pain, Kirow adopted a tender look, Khalo could feel, it was the one sense he already had, and Kirow knew Khalo was able to feel from the moment he was separated in the cells from his smaller twin. That was why Khalo had struggled to breathe, that had been why he had gagged, that it had been why he could already feel pain. Khalo's hands were extremely well coordinated even at his age, he knew how to grab and grip and run his fingers carefully through what he felt.

Racquel smiled, "this is good, it's great progress, and lets us know that Khalo is still progressing even if his lungs are weak he'll still be able to deal with it if he can feel," she explained gently. "Maybe, we can leave for the night, and in the morning we'll see the state of his senses," Racquel suggested.

It seemed that something startled Khalo and he pulled violently on Kirow's hair, strong somehow. Kirow bent Khalo's fingers to let go of his hair and turned around to Khalo, "I think… I think he heard you," Kirow put forward. As he said it Khalo flailed his arm reaching out and grabbing Racquel by her blouse and pulling her down. Kirow stood up to help her, "just don't move quickly, you know he has the mind of a baby he can't hurt you intentionally."

Racquel stopped struggling now realizing she was laying in the bed partially on Khalo but held down by a fierce grip, "yeah but how about unintentionally, and he's got my breast I'm not inclined to stay unmoving as you suggest!"

Kirow smiled at the notion, "babies long for their mother, I think he found his even if he can't see you." Slowly Kirow got down to Khalo's level understanding that he could now hear gave him an idea, "Khalo, listen to me," he whispered into his ear, "I am your brother and I am never going to leave you, Racquel loves you but she's not your mother, let go of her, she's not going to leave you either."

Khalo's eyes were wide but it was very clear that he could not see, slowly he let go of Racquel and calmed himself down. Racquel stood up relieved, "I guess his senses are developing very quickly."

—

Khalo slept soundly on his side when Kirow returned the next morning, his eyes were closed his breathing was steady and everything seemed to be stable. Kirow didn't return with Racquel and he knew it would like frustrate Khalo if Racquel wasn't there but nevertheless Khalo would be happy to know Kirow was there. He had nothing familiar to him, after all with the way he had come into the world, if he didn't have Kirow or Racquel he might hate the whole world and just die with nothing to hope for. It was possible, Kirow knew that.

Softly Kirow took a chair and set it next to the bed draping his hair over Khalo in hopes he would grab it again and be comforted. "Khalo," he said softly, "Khalo, it's Kirow, your brother is here." Soon after the urging, Khalo opened his eyes again. Kirow helped him sit up slightly so that even in his blindness he might be able to take in by projection of sound what the room was like. Khalo quickly found the strands of Kirow's hair draped across his lap and proceeded to brush it with his fingers. He lifted it up to his face touching it to his cheek and savoring the feeling.

Kirow smiled, "do you like it?" he wondered as Khalo following the strands back to Kirow, "it's blue, that's what color it is, cyan blue, you have some too, Khalo," Kirow explained in a cheerful voice. Upon saying that Khalo let go of Kirow's hair and reached up to his own, discovering for himself that it was true and he could feel no difference as to how to determine the color, it was something he'd have to see. Kirow humored him, shaking his head in disbelief that he was doing this, "yours is white," he said so that Khalo could have it explained to him what he couldn't see.

Khalo reached down and took Kirow's hair again, feeling around some before he found it. For some reason Khalo stopped and let Kirow's hair fall back to his lap, as he did he grabbed his left arm clawing at the exact spot where the tattoo was. Kirow tried to help him understand, "that's your number, and under it is your name," he explained then stopped, "wait, can you see it?" he asked. Khalo held up his arm in front of his face and squinted, blinking erratically. He shook his head denying, Kirow smiled knowing that Khalo had seen the tattoo on his arm and obviously had the idea of the gesture of shaking ones head from seeing Kirow do it.

The mechanized door slid aside with a loud noise and Racquel stepped inside immediately staring at the two of them already inside, "Kirow," she gasped, "Khalo looked to me when the door opened," she awed.

Kirow smiled back and nodded slowly, revealing that Khalo was gaining some of his vision, "the only thing left is speech," he guessed.

Denying, Racquel moved closer to Khalo on the other side of his bed, "there's still taste and smell. He can already hear, and feel, and he has a little vision. However even without vision we can determine whether he can taste or smell simply." She said this as she placed a tray of food on the bed aside from Khalo.

Taking his long ponytail away from Khalo, Kirow allowed Racquel to put the tray on Khalo's lap to see how he would react. Racquel spooned a small bite to Khalo, "Are you hungry?" she asked sweetly, "open your mouth, Khalo, you can eat all that you like." Kirow had a feeling that Khalo could remember the last time they opened his mouth but to his surprise, Khalo did open his mouth for Racquel. Khalo didn't react once it was in his mouth and stared forward blankly as if his vision was still not working properly. Consequently, without knowing the reason why he should not, Khalo spit it out making a mess of himself. It was obvious he could feel it but he couldn't taste it.

Racquel spoke almost in a threat, though maintaining a sweet voice, "Khalo if you don't eat something we'll have to put the feeding tube back in, and I know you don't want that," the terms in absolutes Racquel spooned another bite for Khalo, "let's try again," she offered. Khalo felt the spoon touching his lips again and opened his mouth but this time coughed, spitting it out again. "he's stubborn isn't he," Racquel mused with Kirow present.

Kirow denied, "no, he just doesn't know what we wants," he answered, "can I try?" he asked in return. Racquel affirmed, putting the spoon back in the bowl and Kirow took it, filling the spoon then holding it up to Khalo, "hey, if you can see anything I want you to look at this, you'll like it," Kirow took a moment to identify what it was Racquel was trying to feed him, "it's sweet, if you can taste it I want you to take it." As he finished Kirow watched at Khalo raised a hand slowly and took the spoon from him spilling the contents out. Gently Kirow held on to Khalo's wrist to guide him to the bowl and steady his hand as he raised it to his mouth, "you're doing good, Khalo, now eat it," he instructed.

Kirow knew he had taken well to instruction when he had been created and he thought that maybe for Khalo being told to do something himself would help him learn it. Khalo's blind eyes stared forward but they had a cautious look in them as he opened his mouth without being told to and put the spoonful in his mouth. He sat there for a few moments without doing anything possibly glancing back and forth at them but unable to see clearly, then again he spit it out.

Racquel laughed a little seeming to give up, "well he can't taste anything that's for sure," she mused looking to the other object she had brought in on the tray. Kirow looked at it too and saw it was a binder, when Racquel opened it she held it up to Khalo, "maybe something colorful to help him learn to focus his eyes." The first page she held up had aluminum in it to reflect all colors around him back into Khalo's eyes but he didn't seemed to react so Racquel turned the page. The next picture was many shapes in only the colors black, white and red but again Khalo didn't react. Khalo's blindness had seemed to be developing into sight for a few moments, so why could he not see anything now?

The next picture held up to him was of a colorful fall scenery with trees, a path, and golden leaves, Kirow explained to Khalo what it was and Khalo seemed to gaze dreamily, using his imagination to see it. Kirow liked seeing Khalo in enjoyment, but he was disappointed that his brother still could not see. Racquel turned the page again and suddenly Khalo began to flail again but not in distress what seemed to be happening was he felt excited. Kirow got his hopes up it was clear that Khalo had seen what was before him and was finally reacting, Kirow looked at the picture before Khalo's eyes and laughed a little it was a photo of a cyan blue rose. The color blue, his eyes were sensitive to the color blue, come to think of it even the ink used in the tattoo on his arm was blue which was how he had seen it before.

Kirow smiled hopefully, "blue, he can see the color blue," he took the binder from Racquel, and Khalo's eyes followed the picture until he couldn't see it anymore. Kirow flipped through the book, "we'll exercise his eyes using blue, if he sees it his eyes will focus and he might be able to see other colors."

Racquel eyed him for a few moments, "Kirow…" he muttered, "that's… that's a great idea!" she stated.

He looked back to her with a slight grin, "Thank you, now go find more things that are blue, I can't find much more in this binder." Kirow stopped turning the pages as he found another picture with a significant amount of blue in it so he showed it to Khalo. The white-haired boy stared at it in awe, clearly able to see the blue just fine and as Kirow watched him, Khalo's pupils were adjusting to focus as he stared at it, Khalo even seemed to have control enough to play around with the focus.

Lowering the binder Kirow moved into Khalo's view, "Khalo, can you touch my face?" he asked. Khalo understood him well enough and slowly raised his hand to his brother. Kirow sighed a bit in hopelessness as Khalo touched his hair unable to find with his eyes were Kirow's face was. "look closer," Kirow insisted moving his face closer to Khalo's eyes.

Khalo tensed a little able to see in detail Kirow's cyan eyes, he focused his eyes again and was soon able to see around Kirow's eyes until his whole face was visible. Khalo retreated his hand from Kirow the thrust it out again and touched Kirow's cheek. Kirow grinned at him, "alright Khalo," he said taking his brother's hand off his cheek, "now, where's Racquel?" he asked.

"I'm over here Khalo," Racquel said to direct his gaze and make sure he wasn't lost in finding her considering he could only see thing close to his face. Learning now to focus his gaze, Khalo reacted pointing a finger directly at Racquel to prove he could see her. Racquel smiled, his eyes still appeared blank but it was clear he could see with them, laughing she put her hands together, "I have an idea, let's go let him meet the others and get out of this bed,"

Kirow took Khalo's arms as he suddenly flailed again, "but he can't even walk or speak," he insisted. Racquel just laughed as she started to help him up, Khalo was perfectly able to sit up on his own, his hands were very coordinated, he clearly hadn't lost all his strength when his twin had appeared. Racquel took Khalo's arms near to the elbows and Kirow supported Khalo's back the moment his legs were touching the floor. They readied each other doing a count before lifting him in a standing position and instructing him to straighten his legs.

Khalo's footing was dizzied but he quickly conjured enough strength to support himself. Racquel laughed brightly, "alright big guy," she joked a bit seeing as how he was trying to act stronger than he was, "you're going to meet your twin now, after that we'll come back here and try to get you to eat something," as she said it Khalo stared at Kirow as it was the only thing he could see but suddenly forced himself out of Racquel's grip kneeling right to the floor.

It was fully in Khalo's control as he did so and promptly flailed his arm as if to bash Racquel away from him. He laid on his back suddenly and quickly moved himself under the bed where he remained silent. Both Racquel and Kirow knelt down to Khalo. He stared up laying on his back as he seemed as if he were looking at the bottom of the bed.

"Khalo!" Racquel shouted, "come out from under there!" she demanded in an almost motherly tone. Khalo shook his head quickly so Racquel persisted, "c'mon don't you want to meet your little brother?" she asked trying hard to convince him.

Again Khalo shook his head, doing it again and again as if to convince them what he wanted, he closed his eyes and flailed as Kirow reached under to grab him and pull him out but Khalo was surprisingly stronger. Khalo breathed heavily before suddenly a sound came out in a protest, a shriek from under the bed, finding in a horse tone a voice, "Khalo… stays here!"


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Kirow sat in the tent where the other Alters were resting—even being he was different from them in privilege—preparing himself for the day ahead. Likewise to him, laid on a pallet his brothers, Khalo and Dmitri both asleep for it was quite early in the morning, but tender with each other as Khalo was extremely overprotective of his smaller twin. This occurrence had been strange in his world, when Khalo was created he was meant to be far stronger than other replicas yet something in the creation had failed and Khalo had a smaller twin who was perpetually smaller than him. Kirow watched them as he tied a leather band around his cyan hair to hold it back in a long ponytail low to his knees. Before setting his poor meaning coat, this because the weather was stiffening with cold as the winter drew near, he woke the others with him in the tent save his brothers whom he never had the heart to awaken in such a way. Starting with the leader of their group he woke them.

Hawthorne opened her eyes first. "What do you want," she hissed, obviously wanting her "beauty" sleep, since it's been lacking since she had been sent out on countless assignments. Enimsaj, whom was sleeping next to her, slowly opened her eyes and looked up at Kirow. Enimsaj wasn't normally sent out on assignments, for she was used to tend to the other Replicas and Alters around them. Negara, or Neg, which she preferred to be called, rolled over and grumbled slightly. Her and her brother, Posman, or Pos, were rarely sent on assignments, for they never completed them anyway, due to her stubbornness. The whole lot was reluctant to get up. Hawthorne stood up and helped Enimsaj up. "What exactly are you all prettied up for, Kirow?" she asked, slightly glaring at him with the one eye she had that wasn't covered with an eye patch.

Kirow laughed, "Still having maw on about that are we?" he wondered as he did the straps of his arm guards, "what's wrong with being excited about another day to live?" he asked with a gentle smile.

When he said this, Khalo clung tighter to Dmitri as if he were a prized possession he could release under no circumstances or a pillow he needed in order to stay asleep. Consequently, Dmitri was fully away and struggling to get out of Khalo's grip. The poor littler creature was like in age to the one who held him but struggled nonetheless, "would you get your arm off of me you freak, you're strangling me!" he insisted and Khalo quickly awoke and released his toady the child at the sight, Dmitri.

Hawthorne rolled her eyes. "You're a little too optimistic, Kirow. Don't come to me when you realize what life really is." Before he could reply, she walked away to get breakfast for the group.

Enimsaj sighed and adjusted her headband across the center of her forehead. "Don't strangle those close to you, Khalo...you could hurt him." she warned.

Khalo grimaced a little sitting up straight, "I don't realize it when I hold on to him," he admitted, "like he helps me remember everything…" he guessed.

Neg finally awoke and sat up. "Pos? Pos, where'd you go?"

A grim almost grumpy sounding voice aroused from just outside the tent, it almost sounded hoarse, "don't get into frenzy, I'm right out here," it was Posman's voice, Pos the Blondie with everything to do with his sister. He was probably toying around with or sharpening a weapon but it was not visible from the behind the flap of the set where his voice came.

Khalo reeled over wincing with a hand pressing into his pate, quickly Kirow knelt down to him caringly knowing this was a regular occurrence. Khalo's memory was terrible and whenever he remembered something that the others already knew he wound up with a migraine worse than having his heart stop.

Neg got up and went outside. "Pos, I was so worried!" she whined. "Who knows, something could up and grab you away, I mean, you're so frail." She pouted to her brother, whom she cared about deeply, and trusted the most out of everyone in that tent.

Enimsaj walked over next to Khalo and Kirow, wondering when she'd have to give medical assistance, if she had to give medical assistance at all.

"Neg, get your hands off of me!" Pos shouted from just outside, uttering several curses while he was doing it.

Kirow sighed heavily, "someone please, send them away if they're going to be like that," he grumbled finding that to be the first thing of the day that had frustrated him. Dmitri got away quickly as Khalo's arms wrapped around himself apt to strangle him again. Kirow forced him to lay back down, "looks like it's going to be a rough day for you." Kirow knew that the creators had put something in Khalo soon after he was made, something that was meant to help him with this and either it was working properly or wasn't working at all anymore but Kirow saw that Khalo knew it was in his torso somewhat, hence the reason he held his sides.

As if by instinct, though it was only habitual, Kirow laid his long ponytail over Khalo and beckoned a soft smile to Enimsaj to do what she could where she could. The ponytail laid over Khalo's chest was for Khalo's comfort, it was also habitual for Khalo to play with Kirow's hair, even now after years since their creation. Khalo griped the strands as if preparing himself for Enimsaj.

Enimsaj nodded and got a cloth that she got wet with warm water that they kept in the tent, just for Khalo. She wrang most of it out so it wasn't dripping, and placed it on his chest, putting a tad of pressure on it to soothe the muscles. "T-tell me if I accidentally hurt you," Enimsaj said softly.

"Quit it, you two, or you'll sleep outside tonight." Hawthorne hissed to the two twins upon her return. Now, given the outside temperature, it would be dangerous to sleep outside, however when Hawthorne made a threat she was greatly inclined to carry it out. Inside however it was always kept warm because of the two kilns heat was never a problem even in the winter months, that is if the kilns were never short on fuel for their fires. Khalo's illness wasn't much help though, it was either that thing in his chest acting up or his memory. Kirow could almost predicted there was going to be a collection soon, that was why he was so thoroughly prepared for the day.

With a quiet, unsteady voice, Khalo asked Enimsaj to put the cloth on his head because while it was on his chest it was making him cold. In the discomfort he didn't realize the place where his illness originated was in his chest, he probably didn't even remember it either. Kirow sat on his knees facing away from Khalo while his brother gripped the cyan rope as if with his life.

As Hawthorne argued with the two siblings, Enimsaj nodded and moved the cloth to his head, for she figured that he knew best when it came to his own illness. She sighed. "I hope you get better soon..." She stood slowly, as if to see if he needed anything more.

Khalo tried to sit up and leaned against the leather covers of their tent the memories he had rediscovered the night before of how he got the illness he had haunted him but he could say nothing of it remembering the inability to speak in the memory taking the form of a dream. It sickened him to think of what they had done to create him and his brother, even Kirow, or Hawthorne… even Enimsaj.

"Enimsaj," Kirow said softly to get her attention, "I need to ask a favor of you and I don't think you're going to like it," he began subtly gaining her acceptance before making his request.

Enimsaj fiddled with her braid nervously for a moment. "Y-yeah...? What would it be?" she asked quietly, a little nervous for his request.

Hawthorne stepped inside with the siblings, and what she gathered of food. She looked at everyone but said nothing, and set the food down on a table-like piece of furniture, and then tightened her ponytail, and adjusted her eye patch.

Kirow gestured Enimsaj to get a portion of the meal for himself and Khalo, for Khalo wouldn't be able to move of his own and Kirow was apt to remain by his brother for the comfort it gave him, "Enimsaj," Kirow addressed again more firmly, "if Khalo's illness gets any worse the creators are going to send for him and they'll take all of us with them, I have a hunch that either Khalo will lose his memory again or I'll lose Khalo," Kirow allowed Enimsaj a moment to think about the manner in which he had said it, "even if I am unable to be with Khalo and he forgets all about me, I want you to stay with him, if you can do that for me," he stated his asking whether or not she was capable of doing it, not if she wanted to.

"O-oh, I see..." she nodded, as she got two plates ready for them. Once she handed them their plates, she smiled softly, "I am not one to leave any one of us behind. I will stay with him until my last breaths." She nodded.

"Tch, how loyal," Hawthorne laughed teasingly, taking a bite of her meal. Neg looked at the group and then at Pos, then continued eating.

Pos piped up again, "loyalty doesn't even cover it," he grimaced seeing how his sister has a bit more close to him than he'd fancy.

Kirow smiled to himself, it was true but it was much more, they were the closest thing to family that each of them had. Kirow knew it would be difficult for any of them to let go if one of them were not to come back. "tell me, Hawthorne," he stated as he helped Khalo take his portion in the meal, "how did you scrounge up so grand a meal in such a matter of minutes?" he asked nearly mocking her.

Hawthorne scoffed. "It's not that hard to do if you've been out too many times to count." She pressed that on the fact that she was sent out on more assignments than Kirow, to make her seem like the top dog. "But don't worry. You can thank me later." She patted Enimsaj's back a few times, making her jump slightly. "But Enny here is right. We don't just leave one behind." Enimsaj nodded smugly.

Neg giggled slightly. "Yeah! For sure!"

Frowning deeply Khalo looked to the rest of the from where he leaned back, "Enny? Don't flatter her, it's not right to be smug," he said adamantly.

Kirow reached his hand back to Khalo gently but his gaze was still directed at Hawthorne, "you may have been on the outside more times than me, but I have far more experience on the inside, need I remind you I've created two replicas," he eyed them as he spoke it, "so even you being the 'top dog' do not have the same status as I do," Kirow finished and sighed heavily, grimacing that he had done it in the first place. He glanced to Khalo then Dmitri almost regretting their very existence but he brushed it aside, "let's not talk about this."

"Don't start a conversation if you're just going to cut it off," Hawthorne snarled, throwing away her plate after she finished eating.

"Hawthorne," Enimsaj said pleadingly, "please don't be cruel...at least, not while I'm around..." She took a peek outside to see what time it was, "I have to go soon anyway."

"What? Where to?" Hawthorne asked. It was the first time she heard of such a thing.

"I'm supposed to go to a different tent and tend to some Replicas that are injured..." she explained. "But I'll be back before dinner."

"Alright. Be careful. Some of those tents have some pretty dangerous Replicas in them." Hawthorne muttered.

"Be safe!" Kirow stated firmly as she headed to leave. This was repeated by most of the others as she left. Kirow then turned to Khalo gently making sure he was eating what he'd been given to find he was not. Kirow sighed, "still can't taste anything?" he asked softly. Khalo affirmed leaning forward to sit upright then added in a gruff and dismayed tone that he was not hungry, though it was obviously a lie. He hadn't much of a whole meal in days.

Kirow looked again to Hawthorne, "you should now this by now, they create us as if we're simple minerals they can bind together. We're not real, but we have a purpose!"

A grimaced scowl enraged from among the group, "Please, Kirow, not another one of your 'purpose' speeches!" Pos grumbled.

Hawthorne looked at Kirow sternly. "I agree with Posman, I'm not staying if you're giving a speech, for I'm not in the mood." She turned to the leftover food and began storing it about the tent.

"What's wrong?" Neg asked with a worried frown.

"I don't feel I should talk about it, for it isn't about me. Just ignore it. I'll be fine." she assured, her back still turned.  
Neg pursed her lips, then pouted. "Alright.."

Pos crossed his arms, "alright, Hawthorne, spill it!" he demanded firmly obviously defending his sister for having pouted.

Kirow gazed at them seeing as how he had triggered this but he reverted knowing it needed to come out eventually so he fueled it, "Yes, Hawthorne, why don't you tell us why the chemical creation of a replica doesn't apply to you?" he already knew the answer, but smugly he undermined Hawthorne, "won't you show us what's under that eye patch?" he said in a tone acting innocent.

Hawthorne turned halfway and glared harshly at Kirow out of the corner of her eye. "No." she said flatly, then turned back around.

Neg pouted once again, for she wanted to know now two things, one, what was wrong, and two, what she was hiding under her eye patch.

What a game it was to Kirow as he grinned, "alright, you guys really want to know?" he asked jeeringly, "go get her eye patch,"

Pos nodded preparing offensively against Hawthorne giving his sister a look to join him. Dmitri stood up between them likewise in preparation to fight, but Kirow kicked him in the back of his knee making him fall back to Kirow could drag him closer advising him, "Hawthorne is far too strong for you to fight, Pos and Neg may have a chance, but you don't."

Dmitri complained a little but quickly found reason to remain neutral in this. Neg beamed and prepared to get ready herself.

"I don't have time to play with you kids." Hawthorne hissed. "I'm worried. Just don't -"

Negara cut her off by lunging at her. Hawthorne looked at Neg and swung her leg under hers, tripping her, and she crashed to the ground. "I said, leave me alone!" she snapped.

Pos threw and grabbing hand at her face to try and snatch what covered her eye, the leather strap which was poorly made but sturdily covered what she was trying to hide. His snatch failed and Hawthorne tripped him standing back up. Kirow grinned at her, "if you really think they're only kids, why are you going easy on them?" he mocked her.

Again Pos tried to grab it, he got his finger against the string but was unable to move it, "Negara, help me!" she shrieked frustrated as ever.  
Hawthorne grabbed Posman's wrist and put it behind him, then shoved him into his sister with his foot. "Quiet, Kirow, or I'll kill you in your sleep," she growled, and then looked at the siblings as they laid there, groaning from the pain. Hawthorne looked at everyone, then stormed out of the tent.

"H-hey! Wait!" Negara pleaded, struggling under Posman.

Pos fumbled to get up, "Kirow!" he demanded then gasped, Kirow was no longer sitting in front of Khalo.

Kirow grinned evilly, now standing behind Hawthorne, "high words," he stated as he undid the patch, seizing it effortlessly and placing it in his belt satchel, "but then, you and I are very much alike," he beamed.

Dmitri shrieked for joy in Kirow's success but found himself the first to gawk at what Hawthorne hid under the eye patch.

Her eye, which was actually bionic, looked down at the snow in shame. For, she knew it was a "gift" from the Creators, she preferred not to use it, for she felt it was more of a deformity than a gift. If she ever were to meet her Original, how would they react to such a monstrosity? "Give it back, Kirow." she said flatly.

Kirow stepped in front of her gazing into her eye, "Hawthorne, of all the scars on your face the only place without scars is in your eye, but even with all the scars and abnormalities in your face it is still more beautiful than any female here," his tone was sincere but it was flattering. Kirow reach to his neck as if he were massaging the muscles but in the process he pulled aside a hatch to display the circuitry. inside was light next to a switch approximately over the natural positioning of vocal cords.

"You're not the only one, Hawthorne," he stated, closing it up. This is explained the two blackened lines on his neck that he had never spoken about before, "biotechnology is the study which created us, we are better trusted by the creators which is how we gained our status," steadily Kirow sat back down near to Khalo, upon this he tossed the eye patch back to Hawthorne, "I trust Khalo is going to forget about this, so do me a favor and don't tell once he forgets."

"I won't," Hawthorne said quietly, catching the eye patch in one hand and readjusting it. "However, Kirow, I worry about other things as well..." She put the eye patch back on and sighed, "I overheard some Creators talking yesterday..."

Kirow's eyes took on an apathetic expression, "the creators are always talking," he cursed, "I'm one of them I know what it's like, the real question I should ask you is what significance it holds for our group," Kirow turned again to Khalo, he could tell that Khalo's mind was scattered from what he just learned and that Kirow expected him to forget it. Kirow growled a little and cursed again, "Khalo eat something!" he ordered him as firmly as possible, a tone which nearly scared Khalo.

Hawthorne looked at Khalo for a few moments, but paid him no mind, and looked back to Kirow, "Eninmsaj's Original almost died last night. If that Original were to have died, Enimsaj would have been gone too. Currently, her Original is being hospitalized and I left before they caught sight of me, so I didn't get to hear how."

Forcing Khalo to eat what he'd been given, Kirow discerned what he heard carefully, "I'm aware of this, but what you don't seem understand is that the replica doesn't actually die when the original does. Here we are again, your status on the outside mixing with mine on the inside. Enimsaj would still leave us, but she won't die. My original has more or less died several times, so has Khalo's but despite what you believe the original's life does not affect ours other than in appearance."

Kirow sighed, "I'm not saying I'm fine with one of our own never coming back, I'm just touching on that obnoxious speech you hate so much. It is an amazing thing that we are capable of giving our originals a second chance."

"Even so." Hawthorne stated flatly, "I just always wonder."

Rynth approached the group outside, smiling to her ears. "Hey!"

"Hey, Rynth," Hawthorne nodded, plastering on a smile so she wouldn't ask if something was bothering her, like she always does.

She beamed and looked around, and before Hawthorne could say anything more, Rynth stepped past her and sat next to a flower that somehow grew up, over the snow. "So pretty..."

"That's right Rynth," Khalo's voice came softly, "I little flower of optimism," it was nearly a scoff but it was true. Khalo tried to sit forward and in doing so he stood up, Kirow tried to stop him with an eyeing look but Khalo acclaimed, "I have work to do whether I'm well or not, I can stand so I can work," and Kirow allowed him, though it was probably because Khalo wanted to be closer to the kilns for warmth.

Rynth pouted. "Awww. Bye-bye!" She waved one arm frantically to say farewell.

Hawthorne sighed and tightened her lengthy ponytail. "Work, work, work. We may serve a 'purpose' or whatever, but working us all the time like this is probably unhealthy. No, not probably, it is unhealthy..."

Khalo leaned against the kiln, "Rynth you may be optimistic but you're an idiot," he muttered. He wasn't even leaving the tent to work at the kiln. He began taking out the necessary metal, "I work because I choose to, you should know as well as anyone else, consistency is good when I can't remember anything," he mounted the metal into the kiln on a stand then began turning the blower to increase the heat. It was obvious he struggled to turn the handle but feeling from the rising heat he was succeeding in his intents.

Rynth took the "idiot" word as a compliment and clapped, then ran off elsewhere to look for more flowers.

Hawthorne sighed once more, and felt that if she sighed just one more time, she'd run out of air and just collapse. She looked at Khalo and smirked. "That's true, I suppose."

Holding his hand closer to the coals, Khalo felt the temperature her was pretty accurate at feeling the correct temperature. Waiting a few moments he took the metal out placing it over the anvil as he started to hammer, now so deeply focused he could no longer hear. He counted them now, he couldn't taste, he couldn't hear, and if he was wrong about the temperature then he could no longer feel. He cursed his own unreliable senses, at the moment seeing and speaking were his greatest senses.

Kirow got up after watching Khalo in silence, "don't exert yourself too much," he advised and left the tent. Now suddenly enveloped in the cold, Kirow stepped out near the vent of the kiln as he gathered his tunic tucking in his belt to hold the flaps together he muttered to himself, cursing Khalo for being something inapt to what he should've been. Kirow stared up the hill bordering their colony he could see smoke in the distance just over the hill in fact.

Hurriedly, Kirow went back into the tent, "Hawthorne! It's the creators they're coming out for a collection, they will probably be here any second!" he revealed worriedly. Quickly Kirow looked to his brother, "Khalo lower the kilns," he commanded, but Khalo didn't respond unable to hear him, "Khalo!" Kirow shouted coming closer and shaking his shoulders to have his attention.

Hawthorne growled as Khalo didn't answer, and she walked over to him and slapped him on the back of the head. "Hey, whitey, turn down the kilns already, before I throw you in one!"

Khalo read her lips best he could knowing exactly what she meant when she pushed him toward the kilns, he did so but what he heard now could not audibly be made out as words only sound. Kirow suddenly grabbed Hawthorne's arm, "you touch a hair on his head and I'll—"

Abruptly cutting him off Pos entered again, "the creators are here, I'm going to get the others, and Hawthorne it's getting really chaotic out here!" he stated with worry stricken in his tone.

"Get a hold of yourself, Kirow, it's this thing called sarcasm!" she snapped, yanking her arm away from him angrily. "Don't touch me!" She looked over at the Creators and paused.

Kirow followed her with his gaze, "I know what it is, but you lack any emotion but seriousness!" he countered, then met the gaze of a creator before them. Several were there, all ordering the replicas to come aboard one of their machines to take them back to the central colony. Kirow tensed, "Racquel?" he wondered seeing her face.

The scientist gazed at him sternly, "hello Kirow, how is that experiment we did together," she asked as if in need of an update for the progression.

Sighing slightly Kirow came closer to her slowly, "they're both in the tent but Khalo is still having difficulties," he stated in a blank tone.

Racquel nodded, "we picked up through the tracer that he was struggling and that's why we're here. And what of Dmitri?" she asked again.

Hawthorne glared at so-called "Racquel". She had a feeling in her gut that she was probably going to hate her in the end anyway, but then again, what Creator did she like? And how did they know each other? She looked at Kirow for a few moments, expecting him to tell her up front.

Slowly now slightly distressed, Kirow nodded and turned back to Hawthorne, "get in the transporter," he muttered an order to her as he entered back into the tent returning shortly with Khalo and Dmitri, guiding Khalo gently. Kirow looked to Pos again, "go get your sister."

Pos nodded and hurried off, the only reason he was not followed was Kirow's status among the creators. Kirow again looked to Hawthorne before she had budged, "I apologize for giving orders in your stead but this is unavoidable, get in the transporter," he repeated, and got in himself.

Neg came out nervously from the tent and looked at all the Creators, slightly hiding behind Pos.

Hawthorne rolled her eye and got into the transporter as she was told, but didn't get the answer she wanted. She sighed "I guess I'll have to wait, then," she muttered under her breath.

Within minutes the colony was deserted and all replicas living there were being transported to the central colony. The ride was bumpy and unsteady, if Khalo were in the back with the others there was no way he'd survive, this thought was present in Kirow as he and most others in their group rode in the main seating area. Kirow grabbed hold of a handle, "Hawthorne, Racquel and I created Khalo and Dmitri, they are not like us, Khalo was meant to be strong a leader in the replicas or a group of Alters. Khalo is a form of bio manipulation, he's not real, but while we were creating him something went wrong and we still haven't discovered what it was. Dmitri's existence may be the reason Khalo's senses are failing, I'm taking Khalo and Dmitri back to find out the cause." Kirow strengthened his gaze on Hawthorne, "you have to understand, if I issue the collection of one or two replicas, all of them must be taken. I've been waiting a long time for this!"

"You're taking two members of our teams to experiment on?!" Hawthorne snapped, glaring at him.

With an expressionless gaze, Kirow nodded, "yes, you seem to think that's a bad thing. It will improve Khalo's health, create scientific answer, and it will his original's life eventually. It would ruin my reputation and Khalo's life if I were to present a replica that wasn't going to live longer than the original," he explained again briefly.

Neg and Pos were talking quietly to one another, which they always did. No one ever knew what they would say to one another, but they always were talking. Always.

Hawthorne glared at Kirow and grabbed him by the collar. "Tell me exactly what you're wanting to do here..."

With a suddenly fierce grip, Kirow took Hawthorne's wrist so that it released and he pushed it away, "I'm trying to save Khalo's life! When we get to the central colony I'm going to alter Khalo's senses so that he can full perceive again, and I'm going to get that thing out of his chest since it's not working any more. The only thing I can't fix, and believe me I've tried is his memory I can't fully explain why his memory is degenerating but I'll tell you this it is not something that occurs naturally in him. It's induced, something is causing it," Kirow gazed forward out the front of the vehicle, "there I told you."

"You're treating him like he's a lab rat!" she snapped. "I know it's for his own good or whatever you're trying to say here..." Hawthorne glared at him for a few moments then shut her eyes and turned away. "Fine. Do what you want." Hawthorne paused and then turned her head to the side so she could glare at him out of the corner of her eye. "But if you make one slip-up. One mistake. One accident that causes him pain. I will have your head."

Kirow's eyes widened, "Khalo is not a lab rat!" he shouted in his own defense.

Hawthorne ignored his shouts and turned away again, closing her eyes in anger and irritation.

Rynth looked at the wall and drew stick people with her finger.

Dmitri eyed here curiously, "why are you doing that Rynth?" he wondered.

She drew two stick people with a line in between them, separating them from one another. "I don't know," she said with a sigh. "But I think this is me," she drew hair on one, "and this is my Original." She drew a smile on the other's face, but a sad face on herself. "I want to meet my Original...I want to, so bad..."

"I think we all do," Hawthorne said, noting her drawing. "What does the line symbolize, down the middle?"

"Everything."

Dmitri raise his hand and connected the line in a circle around the figure Rynth identified as herself, "is it the river?" he asked.

"No...in all honesty, I don't know what exactly it is."

Dmitri drew up several more figures on either side, "Khalo told me that the river is what's keeping us from our originals, if we cross the river we can get out." He looked then to Enimsaj, "but didn't you say you dream of your original, so maybe the real passage is in here," he gestured to his temple.

"Right," Enimsaj nodded. She looked at the wall and also began drawing on her own separate wall. "I have discovered that our Originals look the exact opposite that we do." She drew two circles, one with colored in hair, and one without. One with colored in eyes, and one without.

If it was so white would be black, cyan would be crimson, purple would be green, what colors appearing would be hideous. Dmitri sighed, "Are we ever going to meet our replicas before we replace them?" he wondered distraught sitting down on the floor in the holding area.

"We will!" Rynth said with a smile. Though something inside her told her they wouldn't.


End file.
